To Lose It All
by Kirodan
Summary: Cannon compliant;Time Travel story;HPSS;Hogwarts years.  Mr. Potter goes back in time, wishing to save Severus Snape's life. But Fate has a mind of its own, not to mention strict rules, and so Harry finds himself starting his life over as an 11-year-old.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I do not, in any way (apart from emotional gratification :D), profit from this story and all creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator, J.K. Rowling.

**A.N.:** About a half an year ago I became obsessed with writing a story like this. Actually, ever since I read the final book of the series, I felt a bit righteous about the Prince's tale (well, really, not just a bit). And as the curious little line in the fifth film goes: "Well, it may have escaped your notice, but life _isn't_ fair. ", and as I find Severus Snape is one of the most complex and realistic characters in the story (not to mention my favorite by far), I thought it fitting and much needed, to disprove this statement "of his"**. **At first I thought of "giving" him Lily, but somehow it didn't fit right in my head, so at last I decided to throw a Potter in his direction and see where it would lead. Well, to this day, I'm not too sure if he'd like or find any use for "the brat", but thus far I've enjoyed trying to twist it to this kind of an end.

So perhaps it will be a Slash story. It will certainly be a HPSS on the HP-part of the pair - I consider this enough of a warning.

I'm not too sure about the rating, as for the most part the more "outrageous" suggestions will be vaguely implied, but it may vary in future.

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

**_"Dead memories"_  
><strong>

(May 2nd 1998 Saturday)

Hermione and Ron left him by the ruin of the gargoyle once guarding the headmaster's study. They, of course, had a reason to go back down to the Great Hall and the crowd of survivors. He, however, didn't have one, nor the desire to be approached at all, at least for the day. So he turned in the opposite direction and proceeded to Gryffindor tower, already visualizing restful sleep, accompanied by sweet oblivion. It was a strange feeling, his feet were walking on their own for a second time this night, and besides, it was stranger still - the numb void he felt where his emotions of not so long ago had resided. 'It's over', Harry told himself over and over but the words were hollow much like the effect they had on him. Yes, it was over and he had survived as it was what he was famous for after all. But what cost had been paid just so he could utter the words? So many were dead, so many innocent, and yet still more painful – so many close to his heart. Starting from his mother and father, then Sirius, Dumbledore, Remus, Tonks, Collin, Moody and even Snape. They were all irrevocably gone just so he could stand alive here today. And even though he knew he was supposed to be grateful for their sacrifices, he felt angry instead, some unknowable ire burning brighter and swelling with every step he took. Was it worth it after all? Was it for the better this way? What would they say if he asked them? Would they perhaps state that yes, this way was for the best? They would surely pretend it wasn't Harry's fault for things to end up like this - some of them had already said it last night, in fact. But still…how could it not be Harry's fault? If it weren't for him and Voldemort, things would never go so wrong.

Harry suddenly halted realizing he'd reached the door to the boys dormitory without a single thought of where his feet were leading him. No surprise there and surely for the better, he mused stepping inside and immediately lying down on his old four-poster.

* * *

><p>(June 3rd 1998 Wednesday)<p>

A month passed and everything in the wizarding world seemed to have settled at last. The four past weeks were freakish ones in respect of capturing the last few Death Eaters who weren't at Hogwarts during the final battle and also flooded with dirty work at the ministry, including lifting enchantments from the workers and reestablishing government posts. At least after the passing of the hard month everything seemed to be normal again. And indeed everyone around Harry seemed to have found the right attitude to keep a smile on their faces. Hermione had found her parents and had lifted the spell on their memory for one thing. She and Ron were currently discussing an upcoming wedding which was supported, to Harry's vague surprise by the Weasley family. They seemed to take every chance at rejoicing and it was for the better, he supposed, when the alternative was to mourn ceaselessly over something irreversible… which was what Harry himself seemed to be doing of late. What he mourned exactly he wasn't really sure, he had too large a list to choose from, but still the heavy feeling in his chest didn't melt with rationalization.

He was currently residing in the Burrow while making vague plans for his future. Ron and Hermione for one would soon start studying for their final exams, he was sure. Ron because he still dreamed of becoming an auror and Hermione because… well because she was Hermione. Harry however had no inclination to even try prepare himself for any NEWT's and didn't really believe one would land on his head on the way. Something else altogether different but still in the same spirits was plaguing him since last month. It had become clear to him that Ginny expected that in their relationship the same temps as in that of Ron and Hermione would apply. And though Harry was fond of her to say the least, this distressed him greatly. Of course he knew the rational thing to do would be to get it over with his stupid frustrations and propose to her. He didn't find his frustrations stupid though, so he kept his distance when it came to Ginny pouting about this or that – all alluding to the stopper on the 'development of their dedication to each other'. Harry understood that of course this wouldn't make the problem go away, but persisted to stall in hopes that if he did it long enough he might just be able to better his spirits so it would all end up good.

When he came clear to Hermione about this, she was very supportive, saying she understood where he came from, but still there was this look in her eyes when she said it, that spoke volumes of undercurrent doubt.

His problems aside, Harry had no reason at all to complain, save for the summons from the Ministry, which were the least bit of a snag. He'd already given his testimony the day after the battle. The only thing left for them to do to him was give him a stupid order which no doubt was exactly what they intended.

* * *

><p>(June 10th 1998, Wednesday)<p>

A week later found Harry on a podium surrounded by too many reporters and receiving his order of Merlin first class. If only he could find the idea of a first page scowling Potter not so stupid one, he would have done just so. As it was he stood there trying to cast a disillusionment charm on himself without a wand and thinking privately what a waste of time this all was. And then just before his turn to receive the piece of metal a realization hit him straight in the chest in the form of a little speech.

"Order of Merlin First class is awarded post mortem to yet another member of the Order of the Phoenix. This one goes to our long-time link to the Death Eaters' inner circle, the man who sacrificed his name, dignity, reputation, and his life for the wizarding world. First Class is only fitting for the one who even in his dying hour disregarded his own needs in order to give the Chosen One his last bit of information – the key to the victory over the Dark Lord. To Severus Snape."

Harry only vaguely registered McGonagall walking to the front to receive the order which was no doubt to be placed in Hogwarts. What hit him instead was his own foolishness. It was not him who was important today. He was here to pay respect to everybody else in the wizarding world, regardless the outcome they came to survive. He was here to bow with respect to the memory of everybody who made this even possible.

"…Harry Potter.", Harry heard right before the usual applauds from the crowd and immediately got to his feet.

"_Sonorus. _Thank you, minister,", he said receiving the order and turning to face the people. "It is a sad day for me to be standing here, being one of the six people surviving to receive an Order of Merlin. Thus for me this piece of metal will stand not for my supposed tribute to the wizarding world, but for the many sacrifices made for the sake of our peaceful life. A memento of the courageous, selfless and eternally devoted people who made it possible for all of you to be standing here applauding the mediocre wizard who because of their help alone, managed to do something very much beyond his capabilities. _Finite_."

Harry didn't pay attention to the reaction of the crowd. Clutching the order he turned and walked right past all of them until he reached McGonagall.

"May I have a word, professor?"

"Why, yes, Potter, you certainly may.", she said surprising Harry who half expected a rejection. He gestured to the far end of the atrium and towards the exits.

"I noticed something strange, professor, and I hoped you can make it clear for me?"

"What is it, Potter?", she asked tersely fixing him with her gaze.

"Snape's portrait – it wasn't in the headmaster's office."

"Ah, but yes, of course. Severus Snape fled the castle during the battle, I believe you were there."

"So?"

"So his portrait isn't supposed to be there, Potter. The portraits in the study are of those headmasters and headmistresses who passed away while on the post."

"But this is stupid –"

"Nevertheless, Potter,", she interrupted her voice stern now. "it is the castle's magic that decides. And it has decided not to put the portrait there."

"But it should be there, don't you agree? After all he died trying –"

"Yes, Potter, I agree. This however is a matter of a higher authority."

And Harry understood what she meant. She was no Dumbledore as she didn't quite have his authority yet. He smiled to himself at this.

"Thank you, professor, for making this clear to me. How is the restoration going?"

"Well.", she conceded. "Well enough for the school to reopen come September."

"Good. I'm glad – Well, I'd better be going now,", he said glancing past her to see Ron and Hermione coming. "Have a nice day, professor."

"Harry, what happened?", asked Hermione, clearly worried. "This was very different from what we'd decided."

"Yeah, I know. It was the spur of the moment I guess. All I've rehearsed suddenly seemed ridiculous, you know."

"Yes, I can imagine, but still – 'a mediocre wizard'? You sounded like Snape for a bit there."

"I did?"

"Yeah, mate, you did. But it was all right, don't worry. Listen, we'd better get going before the reporters decide to come for an exclusive of something."

Harry frowned for a moment finding Rita Skeeter among the crowd.

"You know what, you go ahead. I want to talk to Kingsley about something."

"Now? Why can't you do it later or –"

"Come on, Ron, I'm sure Harry won't be long.", Hermione said as she pulled Ron by the elbow. Harry nodded and turned towards the elevator.

Once in the minister's office, he sat down and waited patiently for Shacklebolt to arrive. He sure didn't wait long.

"You don't like the press either, I suppose.", Harry greeted him.

"What –ah, it's you. No, I don't much care for interviews, especially ones stressing on other's words.", he replied stiffly.

"I'm sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for. It was right on the spot if you ask me. Not what the public wanted to hear, mind."

"No, I suppose they would prefer to hear their imaginary hero dazzling them with puffed up words of greatness."

Kingsley smiled and sat down in his chair.

"Now, what's the reason of your being here, Harry?"

"Um, I need a favor actually."

"Hm?"

"I need to file an appeal, though I'm not really sure to whom I should address it."

"An appeal?", he asked incredulous.

"Yes, it's all a bit silly. You see the Hogwarts castle has a mind of its own when it comes to whose portrait would be hanged in the headmaster's office and I need a permission to bypass it's decision."

"You want a portrait taken off then?"

"Quite the opposite in fact. The castle decided it wouldn't hang Snape's portrait because he fled the grounds during the battle."

"Ah, I see, let me just –", Kingsley went shuffling through the drawers of his desk finally emerging with a paper. "Here, you file it and I'll pass it forward."

"Thank you.", Harry beamed. "I appreciate it."

"No trouble. I would have done it too, if I knew."

The boy nodded and immediately started scribbling. Once done he felt a tiny bit of the weight in his chest alleviating. Though it was really a useless thing to do it was good to know he could do something at least.

* * *

><p>(March 19th 1999 Friday)<p>

"I just need more time, Ginny!", Harry said raising his voice.

"More time?", she shrieked standing up from the couch. "It's been almost an year! How much more time do you need?"

"It's difficult for me too, you realize I hope!"

"Ugh, yeah, of course I realize it's difficult for you, but it shouldn't be! Why are you so fixed in the past, so determined to ignore me when I'm only trying to help!"

"I'm not ignoring you, Ginny!", he said exasperated. "I know you're trying to help, but pushing us into marriage right now isn't helping! All I ask of you is to wait. It's not like I'm denying you something of real importance, is it? We are together, we are happy this way, are we not? And we will get married, but in time, not right now!"

"We will then? That's what you say.", she seethed. "But you say different things while unconscious.", she muttered.

"What's that?"

"You heard me. You're calling a name. One name. Frequently."

"What?", his eyes widened at this new and completely unexpected information.

"Oh, don't go acting so innocent. Snape's name. You're calling Snape's name in your sleep almost every night. And if I wasn't sure the git's dead I'd have left you by now."

Harry's eyebrows lifted as much in surprise as in realization. Of course he should have expected something like this to happen sooner or later. The day when he'd seen the potions master's portrait being placed on the wall in Hogwarts had acted as an onset of his frequent nightmares featuring the man. And ever since that day he'd had them – not every night, mind, but – frequently enough to disturb him to the core. It was one of the main reasons in fact he still felt like there was a long way to go towards the desired peace of mind which would allow him to even think of proposing marriage to Ginny. But what she was obviously trying to imply was a bit too much for him to process.

"What kind of a sick person do you believe I am exactly?", he shouted outraged. "How can you – no, I – I don't know what to say to this, Ginny – really? Snape? You're jealous of _Snape_?"

Ginny looked rather flustered.

"What else could I possibly make of it, Harry? First you want to wait, then I hear his name every bloody night. And fess up, it's not like your performance of late deserves even mentioning."

Harry winced then frowned as if mad at himself for letting it get to him.

"So it's all about 'performance' with you then?", he hissed.

"You very well know it is not!", she answered affronted. "I'm just confused, I don't know what to say to you anymore and you have to see it my way. When we add all the things up – what can I say?"

"I think you said enough. When _I_ add the things up do you know what I see? I see not the girl I fell in love with anymore but an annoying hell of a creature who spends her time in whining, whose only goal is to be a house-wife, and who doesn't even like having sex with me – not to mention she accuses me of being gay! And all this because I need more _time_ to get over the deaths of all the people I ever considered family!"

"I – I'm –"

"No, you're not. And I suggest you go spend this evening with your family instead, Ginny. I need some time alone right now."

And that was the end of the argument obviously, for Ginny went quiet and after a moment gathered her things and left. Harry sighed, left alone in his apartment at last. He felt guilty for being secretly glad of the solitude, but he couldn't deny the dire need of it for the last couple of months. Of course it wasn't Ginny's fault at all, he realized. She was a normal girl and needed a normal life. It was only natural for her to want those things Harry simply couldn't extend to her. It was his fault, his dysfunction, his irritability, his depression. And he couldn't deny he was getting worse with time instead of improving. The nightmares too were getting worse and were starting to quite literary drain his will to get well. It was good actually that Ginny only mentioned his performance in bed. That, be it frustrating was due more to his lack of interest than a real problem. There were other things too. Like looking in mirrors, going out with friends, having fun with anybody really. When he thought about it he didn't feel up to anything of late. How could he when all he could think about were the people he'd wronged. And Snape of all people to visit him in his sleep was excruciating. The man once was quite the nightmare even during daytime while Harry's eyes were wide open and he could defend himself. But it was fair though, for him of all people to haunt him. After all he'd wronged Snape the most, hating him till the very end for all the wrong reasons. Funny how he used to blame him even for Sirius' death which now he recognized as a simple mechanism of coping with his grief.

All aside he couldn't manage to do more than try assuring himself all would be well in the end. Of course now things didn't seem bright in particular, but he was alive after all, so he could put the pieces together once more. He'd just got his newts results and they served to cheer him up a bit because even though they were all Acceptable, this still meant he could pursue any career of his choice which they covered. This and his reputation were enough to pave his way forward in any direction should he choose so. And he was starting to think again about becoming an auror. He was tired of fighting that was true enough, but thinking of his attitude and life he couldn't help but admit it was better for him to be at a dangerous post than for somebody with actual dreams and hopes. Even if he died it would be worth it and much better than sitting on his couch, drinking butterbeer. It could also be a decent distraction from the nagging surfacing thoughts that haunted him. Yes, an auror career sounded very tempting.

* * *

><p>(April 3rd 1999 Saturday)<p>

"I'm just saying. If you don't do something about it soon, it will be over for good.", Hermione all but nagged.

It was three weeks later in his very same rather gloomy living room and Harry was in the exact same position, sprawled on his couch drinking butterbeer while Hermione sat across the small table from him eyes intently fixed on his disheveled appearance.

"Easy for you to say. Let's pretend me and Ginny have made up. What then? The same damn problems that separated us still stand, Hermione. And I'm not up to anymore changes right now."

"I'm starting to suspect the problem is that you don't _want_ to change, Harry. Do you seriously prefer to continue living like this?"

"Of course not.", he sighed. "It's just that… there's nothing to do about it. I don't think I _can_ change even if I wanted to."

"I know I've said this before, but seriously, Harry, think about seeking help. There's sure to be someone at St. Mungo's, or if not – there are muggle specialists –"

"Oh, stop it at once!", he said raising his voice slightly. That was Hermione's solution for everything these days. "I'm all right, am I not? It's not like I'm insane or anything."

"No, but you're severely depressed!"

Harry snorted at this. He was aware what depression was in general and felt quite sure Hermione got it wrong for once.

"Severely depressed? Have you seen a depressed person, Hermione? Now Sirius was depressed, don't you think? More than me if you think about it, and he still wasn't what you would call a 'severely depressed person'. Spare me your dramatics, I'm coping well, I have a life I very much like. I'm not depressed but simply grieving. You should know it takes a different amount of time for every person and on top of that I didn't get to live through every bit of it when it was the proper moment. I might just be compensating now. And no, I don't think it's such a problem and it's really getting better these days – since…well since Ginny and I split up."

Hermione listened to him frowning and by the end of it seemed deep in thought.

"You're right. And it's not my business to say those –"

"Will you please get a grip, Hermione. Of course it is your business to say these things and more. You're concerned for me like any real friend would be. It's all right. But you should know that no matter how things end up I won't be the same person I was before the battle. I wish you all would stop expecting it from me."

"We just want to see you happy, Harry."

"Yeah…I know. Let's – just talk about something else."

"All right. You know how there's memorial on the anniversary this year?"

"Yes of course I know. Been invited and all."

"Yes, me an Ron will be going too. So what do you say we go have a picnic by the lake afterwards?"

Harry laughed to this.

"You realize there's going to be a feast of sorts in the great hall in the evening –"

"Yes, yes, I know about the feast all right. But there are going to be all sorts of people there and – well, I thought it would be good if we spent a little time together before that, just the three of us."

"I see where you're going with this but if you think an hour of reminiscing will help me in any way you're sorely mistaken."

"Okay so it wouldn't help _you_, but it may help _us_ you know."

'_The world does not revolve around you, Potter. No matter how desperately you crave it.'_, a familiar voice resounded in his head.

"Oh, if that's the case, sure, I'll come."

"Good.", smiled Hermione but Harry could tell there was something that still bothered her.

"Something's on your mind. Spill."

"Well,", she glanced at him sideways rather reproachfully. "It's really non of my business –"

"Oh come on, we've been through this already! Just say it, I can see it's bothering you."

"Well, Ginny mentioned something about – well about Snape."

"Ah, so she told you all about her little theory about me being actually gay that is the real problem between us, after all."

"Uh, if it makes any difference I didn't really believe it. But you saying his name in your sleep… I just thought there was something to it."

"Yeah, there's something to it, all right! I've simply been having nightmares about the man, Hermione. What Ginny implied was plain disgusting!"

"What kinds of nightmares? I mean, you don't have to say anything if you don't want to – but I can tell they had some kind of impact on you."

"No, they had no such thing.", Harry lied in hope Hermione would drop it. "I've just dreamt of him dying a couple of times, saying it's all my fault, you know. Nothing Snape wouldn't have said if he was alive."

"Your fault? But you know it isn't, right?"

Harry narrowed his eyes a fraction.

"Well as it wasn't my pet snake that bit him, I'd say it isn't. Though I can't deny it all really comes back to me. Snape wouldn't have died if Voldemort didn't want the Elder wand so desperately, and he wanted it because of me, didn't he?"

"Still that doesn't make it your –"

"Oh drop it already. It's not what's bothering me. It's more of the fact that there's nothing I can possibly do to set it right that's been nagging. I don't really care about fault anymore."

"Yes, I can see how that may be frustrating."

"It is what it is.", he said with finality standing up. "Now, I have to go and do some shopping before I'm left with nothing but butterbeer. You can come along if you like, but I really need to go."

Hermione too stood up to leave.

"Thanks, but I'll be going. I still haven't filed my application and I mean to do it before the deadline looms."

"Never took you for a procrastinator.", Harry laughed. "I've already signed up for the auror squad."

"You have? That's great, Harry!"

"Yeah, Kingsley would have hunted me down otherwise. But I thought Ron would have told you, we were together."

"No, he couldn't have. We haven't seen each other in a week. But that's great news!"

"Hermione? Why haven't you seen each other? I thought everything with you and Ron was going well."

"Yes, yes, more than well. We've both just been busy. Um, I – I'm so sorry to have come here, talking such silly things to you when it's obvious now you –"

Harry hugged her just to shut her up.

"I'm glad you visited."

* * *

><p>(May 2nd 1999 Sunday)<p>

A month later found Harry as one of the guests of honor at the memorial for the Battle of Hogwarts. The Great Hall, being the witness of the most determinative part of the battle, was the place where all the people, most of them survivors, gathered. There were as per usual several speeches which formed some kind of ceremony, some food and drinks, and mainly silence. During the proceedings Harry felt nostalgia envelop him. It was good to come back to what he's always considered home and still somehow it wasn't enough. It was cruel for both your happiest and saddest memories to merge together in one place such as this. Hogwarts was magic with all the marvelous things it produced, and yet it was death, cold and green. After the ceremony ended, Harry first thought to find Ron and Hermione and to see what would become of their picnic by the lake after all, but then, deciding there was still time to spare, he felt like talking with a certain portrait. So he looked around and when he spotted McGonagall, approached her.

"Hi, professor."

"Potter, it's good to see you."

"You too. Um, I was wondering if I could go up to your office for a moment."

"Whatever for?", she almost snapped.

"Well, as it is a day to remember those who left us, I was thinking it would be nice to talk to the portrait of Dumbledore for a bit. Just feels like a good way to spend a little time with."

"Uh, I suppose it's all right. The password is 'Casus catena'."

"Thanks, professor.", Harry smiled and turned to go.

Along the way he didn't see neither of his friends and that put him a little bit off as he rather wanted to make sure they knew where he was, but it couldn't deter him either way.

Harry was glad to see the full restoration of the castle on his way up. Especially the gargoyle that now unlike the last time seemed lively.

"Casus catena", he recited and it stood aside.

Harry wasn't sure what he'd expected but was inadvertently relieved to see nothing seemed to have changed much. The office of the headmaster was pretty much the way he remembered it, except of course for the portrait of the last headmaster – and as it was currently void of occupants, it wasn't really noticeable at all.

"Dear boy!", Dumbledore's voice boomed in the silence effectively startling him out of all thought he may have previously possessed. "It's good to see you! After all this time to think that you would remember and stop – but what is the matter, Harry? You seem unwell."

"I – I do? Well, today's the anniversary of the battle…"

"Ah, I see. Many good people died on this day, it is only natural to feel sad."

"I just wish –"

"Yes? You wish for what Harry?"

"I wish they knew how I felt… that I appreciate their sacrifice, I mean"

"I'm sure they'd know."

"Not all of them, no… I'm – sorry, sir, I'm not sure why I came here but I didn't mean to whine."

"Oh, but whine away my dear boy, whine away!", Dumbledore beamed and Harry frowned when a familiar feeling emerged inside him. this man when he was alive, always seemed to know exactly what was on Harry's mind. But portraits couldn't perform Legilimency, could they? Nah, no longer the case, just as it was with almost everything in his life nowadays.

"_He,_ for one, would never know." He replied tilting his head towards the empty frame.

"Ah, unless you tell him, I guess not." Harry's eyes enlarged at the suggestion, provoking bright chuckles from the portrait. They died away quickly though as Harry looked away with a vacant expression.

"I've come to realize in the past year – that if it wasn't for him I wouldn't be here now – I wouldn't have been here at all – I… Nobody believed – nobody knew till the very end – that he was on our side. That's just…"

"Nobody was supposed to know, Harry. Nobody was supposed to believe. He did what he had to and he did it well, I believe."

"So well that he's – But no, it wasn't his fault, you're right – he did it all well to the end. Was it Voldemort's? or was it yours?"

"Harry, you know there is no –"

"I don't want to blame anybody, sir. It's just that I keep thinking that I should have known, I should have realized…"

"It seems you have been thinking about that issue quite a bit, dear boy."

"Yeah… one's prone to spend some time and think about the dead man that keeps one awake for an year on end, sir."

"Ah, true, true, one's prone to do that… Well, Harry, it was good to see you!" beamed Dumbledore suddenly and when Harry looked at the portrait it seemed different – looked just like an oil painting…that happened to be moving. Dumbledore was long gone. He might as well have been talking to the wall. "Do me a favor and visit my tomb today, would you?"

Harry nodded absently and turned to leave when another voice stopped him momentarily.

"Well, well, if it isn't the great Harry Potter…"

He froze, at first visibly shocked, not to mention that his breath hitched and he felt ill outrageously quickly and overwhelmingly. He couldn't find reason within himself to turn around when everything inside him was screaming to run away. Harry hadn't foreseen it when he came here and he certainly wasn't bold enough to speak.

"Yes, well I should have known, now that I no longer pose a corporeal threat of sorts, you would simply – ignore my presence."

"Now, Severus –" Dumbledore started without real need to call for damage control as Harry turned around to face the other portrait.

"As it turns out, all you have to do is sacrifice your life for a brat, and you instantly gain annual visits."

"He's right.", Harry croaked before Dumbledore could possibly protest. "He's been right about me all along."

"Now Potter, isn't it a bit too late to turn into a crybaby?" the portrait sneered but it lacked…feeling. "Well, I guess when there are no more dark lords to throw himself at, our little hero must use all the means he possesses to gain the attention of the wizarding world. Do they pity you now, Potter? The boy who lost it all for the greater good… I can see the headlines –"

"Dead.", Muttered Harry while staring ahead.

"What did you say?"

"Did you – really hate me – that much?"

"No.", replied the portrait Snape calmly. "Much more than you can even begin to imagine, you foolish boy –" he was deterred by a quick and admonishing "Severus" by the portrait of Dumbledore, which didn't stop him from finishing the thought. "and before you ask – no, I didn't stop until the last drop of blood left my body."

"I see", whispered Harry and managed to leave before another word was said.

* * *

><p>He knew he'd made a mistake as soon as he heard Snape's voice, but really, he wasn't expecting that the man had hated him enough in life for the feeling to sink down in the oil. He should have known better, nevertheless – it was Snape after all. Still, Harry couldn't find it in him to be angry about it. Some things never changed and that was the beauty of their particular relationship – Harry could always count on Snape's hatred. Did he hate him in turn? Once he thought he did – no, once he most certainly did. Now, however, he was simply sad about it. He was even ready to give anything, go to any lengths to erase the damn guilt of a shadow he'd gained for the last year – make it okay to restore the balance and be free to dislike Snape. One thing was certain – if this continued much longer, he'd go mad and there wasn't a single thing he could do about it.<p>

* * *

><p>"Harry!", he heard Hermione's voice in the distance and winced. That was a collision Harry wasn't ready for. He'd planned, once he'd calmed down, to take a lone walk on the grounds and think through his messy thoughts of the day. As it was proven to him, the endeavor was quite impossible. "Where were you? I thought you'd left."<p>

"Nah, I promised you lunch, didn't I?", he said, trying for cheerful and almost succeeding.

"Yes, well – Ronald can't make it.", she said seemingly preoccupied enough not to notice his foul mood seeping through the façade.

"What do you mean he can't make it? He was here only half an hour ago –"

"Oi, Harry!", and behold the wolf approaching. Something was definitely up with those two but he couldn't care less about that at the moment.

"Let's have lunch you guys, and then maybe someone will care enough to explain what I'm missing here."

* * *

><p>It turned out this too was a huge mistake on his part. Moreover, it turned out Ron and Hermione have indeed been quarreling, to put it mildly, during the last couple of weeks and were on the verge of breaking up. As if this news wasn't enough…<p>

"I saw you with that Jones woman there – really Ronald you could have at least waited for your mother to turn the other way!"

"I wasn't…! Agh, Harry, you were there – tell her I only said "hi"! It's not my fault she decided this was a good moment to complain about the security on the last match!"

"Don't you dare open your mouth, Harry! He wasn't even there when you two talked – he was… Where exactly were you, anyway?"

Hermione had never before seemed the jealous type to him. She didn't look like one even now – she seemed to enjoy irking her ex to be though. It didn't suit Harry at all.

"I was up to the headm-istress' office – to say hi to Dumbledore."

"Oh that's nice of you – you should have said, I'd have come with you. What did you talk about?"

"Nothing much."

"Did you get to see – you know – other portraits there?"

"Yep, unfortunately they saw me too."

"And?"

"And what? What do you expect to hear, Hermione? We forgave each other and lived happily ever after? He told me he hates me more than I can imagine, always has and as it turns out – his portrait always will. Is that enough information?"

"Oh-"

"Yeah, sorry mate, she's always like that. You don't know what it was like living with her –"

"That's enough! I'm sick of you guys – it's hard enough as it is! What happened with you two? No, forget it, it's not my business – I don't know what you've done to get Hermione so mad at you, but I don't sympathize – at all."

* * *

><p>Maybe – just maybe – a senile portrait of a dead headmaster was a better choice for adviser than his best friends combined. Yet another change added to his perfect little life. And as he thought of portraits, his feet somehow took him to the tomb a certain dead man had recommended for a visit.<p>

"I'm right, aren't I? I must have made a mistake on the way for things to end up like this.", he felt the least to say stupid kneeling there, talking to the marble, but perhaps he needed to hear his own thoughts for them to start to make sense in his head. "I feel like – my life's not my own anymore – how did this happen? 'Don't pity the dead, pity the living, and above all those who live without love'", he cited with a disgusted expression. "Did Snape ever find love? How could he, when he'd spent all his adult life loving a dead woman – taking care of her child, even though he hated it…", Why did he have to jump to thoughts of Snape immediately when it came to dead people? Yeah, right, like he wasn't thinking of Snape almost constantly during the past year… "It's just – too unfair… If he was alive I could do something – reciprocate for all those years he… Dead…for me to live. No, not even for me to live – without a proper reason – on a damn stupid whim of a psychopath! There was no reason… ah… I don't understand – how can his death move me more than my own problems after all this time?"

Harry gave up on verbalizing and rested his head on the tombstone. He felt tired, so very tired of feeling things without reason. The minutes passed slowly until something glittering through the grass grabbed his attention. He moved slightly to see better and frowned when he found his own face there. 'Erised? Yeah I'm officially off my rocker. Erised on the ground – lying beside Dumbledore's tomb. How stupid for a first hallucination.' He laughed aloud and moved closer. "Shouldn't I be seeing my heart's desire? I only see myself staring back…ah. Does that mean I'm the happiest man alive?"

"Do you wish to see your heart's desire?"

'Great – a voice to accompany the visual! I may like the madman's life – quite interesting so far.'

Nothing whatsoever happened next if one does not count a Harry Potter staring down at nothing in particular, yet totally fascinated.

"Tell me, what do I desire?", he asked after a fashion. It wasn't nice when your imagination depended on your prompt – it was a rather tiring experience.

"Wouldn't it be better if I showed you? Wouldn't it be even better if I took you there?"

"There? Where?" Wasn't asking your own imagination questions at least a little bit sad?

"Why to your heart's desire, silly. But you won't be able to come back."

"How do you even know what I desire when I myself have no idea?", he frowned, no longer liking the hallucination.

"Easy. If it isn't, I can't take you to it. If it is, then I will."

"Easy you say…", Harry had no idea what this meant. "Okay, take me – anywhere's better than here, anyways.", he muttered further.

Third mistake for one day – and as thirds go, it was a crucial one. The ground beneath his feet disappeared – not that he needed it, it seemed. In a flash, everything was gone, but he-himself and the mirror in front of him. In it's surface now stood Snape in full height.

"You were too late, but now you are in time. Touch only what you have to save and leave the rest alone, or it will leave you behind."

And with this very enlightening line of advice, _everything_ vanished, including Harry himself.

* * *

><p><strong>Further notes:<strong>

*Ginny obviously is OOC, but it works for me as I don't need her at all for the plot in future.

**Harry may appear slightly OOC, but I prefer to see this version of the character as a more mature one, so to me it fits. If one believes the script of the final movie, he's already grown to be more sophisticated in conduct and speech, so I believe it's okay.

***English is not my first language, and furthermore, I don't have a beta for this story. Without a doubt, there are mistakes, and I sincerely apologize for them to those, who spare their precious time to read my silly cannon manipulations.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"**A Second Chance"**

Turning up on number four, Privet Drive, was, to say the least, unexpected for one Harry Potter. He should have known when he'd seen the reflection in the mirror, that he would end up like this. Still he didn't expect to be here, and he certainly didn't expect to be ten years old.

The most stressing moment of it, however, had been when he found himself in complete darkness and in the moments before he realized he was in a room and not dead, he could feel his heart rapidly trying to escape from the confinement of his chest. But of course, the dark space he was in could hardly be called a room. He'd forgotten how it felt like to be in there, forgotten even where the light switch was. But after he managed to get out, with the help of the direction, from which his aunt's shrieking voice sounded, he realized he must indeed be ten at most, and he was yet to receive admission to Hogwarts.

After he managed to get to the calendar on the living room wall, it all started to make sense. Of course he was ten. It was the second of May nineteen-ninety-one. The same date he'd departed from his future life and the year it all really began. Before he could realize anything more, reality swooped over in the form of various chores for the day and he felt being completely absorbed in it as his thoughts grew smudgy and unintelligible.

So it was only late in the evening when he went to bed, that he started to ponder as to why the mirror had sent him back so far in the past. It should have, Harry was certain, sent him back merely an year, or – If it could only go back to this date – a maximum of two. Why so long as eight? What would this accomplish, aside from driving him mad, which he thought was almost imminent now?

Turning the light bulb off, he tried to relax and fall asleep, deciding he needed to adjust before thinking about this. After all, there was plenty of time in which to think – he had four months before the year started.

* * *

><p>(14th May 1991)<p>

Before long, Harry achieved a relatively adjusted state of mind, good enough at least to try pondering the reasons behind his arrival twelve days ago. What he could gather out of the words the mirror had spoken, it seemed his return was carefully controlled. So if there was a good reason for him to be right here right now, what could it be? If Harry'd understood right, he was supposed to alter events concerning Snape and only Snape. Then that meant he couldn't have saved his life by returning only an year or two back, didn't it? There had to be something he had to do sooner, maybe right when he got into school. That didn't leave him much time to figure it out, though.

Even if solving this riddle meant not sleeping till he fainted, it was worth it, Harry decided. After all, he didn't want to end up wasting eight years of his life just to watch events unfold the same way. So he got out of bed and turned the light on, grabbing a paper and a pen and stared blankly ahead.

A couple of hours later the paper was no longer white, in fact the surface had little white left on it. Instead there was an almost unintelligible script among many more scratched notes. This was his list, the best he could remember of all the events concerning Snape that happened during his first year at Hogwarts. There was the first potions class listed, Halloween, two quidditch matches, the mirror and Snape's conversation with Quirrell, which Harry had overheard. What was scratched were other events he'd ruled out as irrelevant. Thinking about it, Harry scratched the second quidditch match too for there was nothing significant in it. He then went to ponder every item on the list. The first potions class seemed to be significant because then it became apparent Snape hated him. But perhaps he could change that. And again even if he did, what would it accomplish in a way that could trigger Snape not dying?

Next was Halloween and Harry had listed it because of Snape checking the charms corridor. That seemed significant enough with the potions master getting wounded and all, but what could he really do about it?

Then it was Snape saving his life during the first quidditch match. The most significant of all, it seemed, but was it really? And what was Harry supposed to do? Try not to get saved? Thank Snape later? It seemed to be more significant to him than to the man. What seemed most significant for Snape was the conversation with Quirrell. With the DADA professor having Voldemort on the back of his head and Snape threatening him, the man was clearly proving to his old master, he was loyal to Dumbledore now. But Snape hadn't been killed because of disloyalty. He was killed on a whim.

Then there was the most obvious choice – the mirror of Erised. It was the mirror that managed to bring him back when no other means could have done the trick. But Snape had never been with Harry when he was in the room where it was stored. And even if Harry managed to bring him there, what was supposed to happen? Snape's life wouldn't be changed by a mirror that shows your deepest desire – because that was what it was now.

So, with all of his list scratched, Harry went forward to his summer time and then his second year at Hogwarts. Some time early in the morning there on his bed lay scattered many more pieces of paper, all blackened with ink, consisting of all of the years up to the final, where he could actually find something to do to change events. Yet, with a whole night spent on the task, he still had no idea why he'd come back to this year.

* * *

><p>(15th June 1991)<p>

The answer didn't come to him the next day or the day after that. As far as Harry was concerned a month later, the right answer was inexistent. And he didn't care about it anymore either. For he'd developed a winning strategy. It didn't matter in the least which one of all those events he'd listed for a month was the significant one – he was going to change every single one of them. There was really no alternative, he decided, and so he would go on to plan every possibility.

For the potions class he'd decided to adopt an adept appearance – he was going to answer all the questions correctly, do his brewing perfectly and all in all - perform his best so he wouldn't give Snape any chance to antagonize him. Even if Snape decided to hate him despite all, and Harry had frequently counted on this possibility and therefore thought his plans through it, he had a trump card this time. He knew what Snape liked and what he hated (well, more of a who than what, actually), so he could pull the potions master's strings easily enough.

Harry'd thought long and hard what he should do about Halloween, considering all the variants he could choose from. He'd decided he couldn't warn Snape not to go to the third floor – it would have been stupid either way, because Snape wouldn't listen, and even he did, this could give Quirrell a real opportunity to enter the guarded room. After many hours spent on the solution of this, Harry realized there was nothing significant he could possibly do short of go there and put Fluffy to sleep, which would be plain stupid. No, the only thing he could do, would be to minimize the damage and as he'd seen before that it would take Snape nearly a month to stop limping, he knew what he would need in order to do it.

There was nothing he could think of, though, about the quidditch match accident. He could try to warn Hermione not to act of course – that was the first thing that popped in his mind, but Harry had no idea how he could manage to pull that one off. Hermione for one was not Snape, therefore he shouldn't be able to give her this warning if the mirror was telling the truth (of course of that he couldn't be certain, because he'd never tested the boundaries – being with the Dursleys he fell into the old habits too easily and the thought of confrontation didn't even enter his mind as it was wondrous enough to watch events repeat and to be able to tell what would happen next.) but even if he told her not to act, Harry didn't seriously think she'd heed his words when her friend was next hoisted in the air, clutching at the end of his broom for dear life. The more he thought about it, the more he realized what Snape had done was stupid in the first place. Why mutter countercurse when Quirrell was close enough that the potions master could easily stop the action directly from the source? Perhaps he ought to tell Snape looking and acting like the villain wouldn't get him far? Nah, he didn't think this was it, yet he couldn't even venture a guess as to what he was supposed to do, except perhaps acknowledging Snape's act, which he realized now, he never did. Harry was quick to change the line of his thoughts deciding on the spot it wouldn't have made much difference anyway – after all Snape'd hated him before he even met him – a word or two wouldn't have made much difference then. But now… now they might just do, he thought and smiled to himself listing it down below his other approved ideas. Somehow thinking of getting Snape to respect him and maybe even like him, made motivation surge in him, and that in itself was very disturbing.

But there was one thing that disturbed him even more and it dealt with the contents of his mind. Snape was a legilimens and had evidently resorted to this particular ability quite often in the past. That meant Harry had to either get really good at occlumency before the term started, or never look Snape in the eye. But the second option was no good Harry found, once he remembered the events of June in the following year. Even if he succeeded to make it through an year without eye contact with Snape (and Dumbledore, mind you), he could never pull this off with Voldemort, with or without his full strength. This conclusion was disconcerting to say the least. It, of course, prompted Harry to put much more effort in trying and really emptying his mind for the first time in his life. And of course, it proved too difficult to be mastered in the course of a couple months, though he tried to boost his confidence imagining progress.

* * *

><p>(24th July 1991)<p>

While Harry was marking his ideas, making plans, and filling endless lists, time passed by. There came and went Dudley's birthday, and without change, mind – Harry was gloating about the chance to experience it a second time anyway. But with it a whole month passed unnoticed by Harry, and more could have passed by him if he didn't awaken from slumber when his first letter arrived.

By recognizing it, a sudden thought occurred to him. What would happen if he opened it now instead of going back to the kitchen? There would be no agonizing over it for a week, surely. But then, if Hagrid didn't come to deliver the letter and subsequently escort Harry to Diagon Alley, how was he supposed to go by himself? A memory of Snape's came into mind. Hasn't the young boy mentioned to his mother all those years ago that, since she was a muggleborn, someone from the Ministry would come and explain to her parents about school and all? So what if Harry had opened his letter in this very moment the first time? He wouldn't know anything about magic, about Diagon Alley, about Hogwarts, about himself or his parents. He probably would have thought it was all a bad joke. And if he'd never taken it seriously, how could he have ended up in Hogwarts? Would they have sent somebody to check on him then, at least when he didn't show up on the first of September, or would they decide he simply didn't wish to go to school there?

Harry ground his teeth, deciding to see what would happen if he did it. But as his mind gave the order for his hands to move, he felt a nudge in the pit of his stomach. This he'd felt a few other times since he'd come back whenever his aunt had tried to order him around and Harry promptly ignored it. But as he tried to move again, he felt a stronger pull and saw his hands haven't gotten even an inch closer to his goal. Harry narrowed his eyes, but decided it wasn't worth the effort for such an irrelevant thing. He'd known there would be boundaries and sure enough he'd stumbled past one of them. He was supposed to change only things revolving around Snape and this was certainly far from being about him. As he didn't wish to test the consequences of disturbing the timeline, on the third nudge he bolted for the kitchen.

* * *

><p>(31st July 1991)<p>

The events unfolded the same way in the following week, much to Harry's amusement. Now that he knew his uncle's efforts would be futile at best, he found the whole situation hilarious and even managed to appreciate the opportunity to see it once again from this brighter point.

Much to his disappointment, as he'd expected to experience the same dreams he did when he was ten, his nightmares persisted as vivid as before he came back. Snape was always there, the anchor of his whole world with his everlasting presence in all timelines, and it made Harry wish he could brew Dreamless sleep potion and get rid of this nuisance even if it was for one night only. These kind of thoughts gave him another idea though. If he wanted to see his plans succeed, he would need to purchase all the stupid potions books he might need, read them and what was worst of all – learn to like the subject. Of course, remembering his first year, he couldn't help to point out even if it was just to himself, that the only reason he hated potions in the first place, was Snape himself. And as he no longer had a good reason to hate the man, he would have to learn self-discipline and pull it off somehow. His newfound eagerness to master occlumency could only help in this endeavor if he only found a way to progress past being blank, as he knew it wouldn't do. He wondered if he could find a book on the subject while purchasing his school materials, and again, if a book was the wise choice for a source of knowledge in occlumency. Nevertheless, of course, if there was something written on the subject of closing one's mind, he wouldn't hesitate to buy it, but still it sounded rather fishy to him after his horrible practice sessions with the potions master. Whenever he pondered on this, Harry found the strangest inklings of wishing to be having them again. If he'd only done the required work properly then, he wouldn't be in such a difficult position now.

Whatever his thoughts and feelings of any of this, time passed and he got closer and closer to his desired, yet feared, going to Hogwarts.

A week had passed and found Harry once again waiting for the clock to tick away the seconds to both his birthday and the arrival of Hagrid. And Harry knew the giant would come with a big bang on the front door, finally dislodging it of its hinges. Then he would yell to the Dursleys waving his pink umbrella and explain to Harry who his parents were, who killed them, and that Harry was a wizard, famous for ridding the wizarding world of Voldemort, and etcetera. Harry sighed just thinking about it. He hoped he could act innocent and manage not to yawn or show in any other way just how disinterested he would be in it all. He couldn't wait for the next day though, with all the things he wished to procure from Diagon Alley. There was still one thing on his list that he didn't have enough information about, however. And he couldn't imagine how he could bridge the subject with Hagrid without falling beyond the boundaries of the insistent rules that he lead his life by nowadays. And anyway, wouldn't it just sound strange for Harry to be interested in such a thing?

It was too late to dwell on the subject, for the first resounding bang on the door sounded in the following seconds. _'Just…go with the flow.'_ Harry thought to himself and ducked to the corner of the room to give space for the next scene to unfold.

* * *

><p>Harry felt as though an eon had passed before the morning arrived and the both of them settled in the boat. Harry hadn't slept at all because for the life of him, he couldn't stop the tangled thoughts from boggling his mind. Sailing for the moment Harry briefly wondered what would happen to his relatives now he and Hagrid had the boat, but remembering they turned up on Privet drive later, he thought they must have found a way to cope with the situation. And besides, he shouldn't be thinking about them now of all times.<p>

"_Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts_?*" Harry asked instead as Hagrid had already breached the subject of the bank just like the last time. He couldn't help remembering with relish his own adventure in the depths of Gringotts.

"_Spells — enchantments," said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he spoke_ and Harry tried hard not to smile, knowing what would follow. If he had a chance at all, this was it. _"They say there's dragons guardin' the high security vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way — Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat."*_

"Wow," said Harry, appearing absolutely fascinated with the idea. "Dragons really do exist then?"

Hagrid didn't spare a glance towards Harry.

"'Course they exist."

Harry narrowed his eyes at the disinterested tone of the giant. Then, he supposed, it might be due to the ever meddling rules but as he felt no nudge, he plunged ahead.

"Then are there also unicorns, or centaurs, or – or,"

"'Course there are, 'arry"

"Have you seen them?", he asked eagerly.

"'Course I've seen them, I'm a gamekeeper at Hogwarts, remember?"

Harry's nostrils flared at the monotonous response he was getting.

"Oh, of course, so you must know all about them, with your experience and everything." He noticed Hagrid putting down the newspaper with a hint of interest in the conversation now. "So please, please, would you tell me about them? What kind of animals have you seen? Which was the most interesting? Which was the most dangerous?"

Hagrid smiled brightly and began to explain in length about the different animals he had ever taken care of while on the job. Harry listened patiently, ever so slightly indicating with body language he was most fascinated with dangerous beings. And when Hagrid told him he would like to have a dragon he saw his opening clearly.

"A dragon? But, Hagrid, aren't they really dangerous? I mean it would be marvelous to have one, but could you really handle it?"

"Sure, why not? I've taken care of Fluffy, now, haven' I?"

"What's Fluffy?" Harry asked with incredulity that was genuine enough, for up to this day he still couldn't believe Hagrid would go on and give the vile creature a name that would suit best a bunny.

"I's this gorgeous beast. Three heads an' all."

"Like – like Cerberus?"

Hagrid laughed at Harry's fearful expression.

"Mind ya he's not that scary once you manage an' find his weak spot –"

"But still – what if it bit you?" Hagrid muttered something unintelligible. "Hagrid? Has it bitten you?"

The giant put his hands up in defense.

"Jus' the one time an' there isn't even a scar, see?" he said lifting his right sleeve.

"But of course," Harry said grinning broadly. "You can heal it with magic, can't you? Tell me, Hagrid, how did you heal it? Was it a spell or – "

"No, not a spell. Jus' a salve but it cost me a fortune. 'Course Dumbledore helped, great man, Dumbledore is –"

Hagrid went on for a while longer but Harry didn't really listen. He'd gotten his answer and couldn't help but cheer internally at how easy it was. If only, he thought, it wouldn't be that easy for somebody else to extract information from Hagrid, it would have been perfect.

* * *

><p>Soon they were in the Leaky Cauldron and Harry wished they'd skip this part of the journey quicker.<p>

"_Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter…what an honor." _

_He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his hand, tears in his eyes. _

"_Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back."*_

Harry was honestly sick of this but, as he knew the unwavering delight of the wizarding population with him would be over soon enough, he was careful not to let his feelings show. It was difficult to face Quirrell there and make a conversation with him though. How much harder it would be to sit in the class this moron taught, he didn't even want to consider.

The seconds seemed to drawl endlessly and by the time Hagrid finally took him to Diagon Alley, he thought he never experienced a longer birthday. But as they stepped on the paved street, Harry felt instantly refreshed. He was finally here with a purpose and the time needed to fulfill it and he just couldn't wait to get it all done. It was strange Harry should feel such a surge of inspiration, even though he realized how hard it would be to see his plans through in the following year. But if everything went well, he couldn't help but think to himself, it would be alright – finally – as it should have been the first time around. And maybe Harry would even be able to sleep peacefully, not bothered by the nightmares anymore, not worried, not feeling guilty, not bolting upright in his bed in the middle of the night sweaty, with a pounding heart - urged by his very body to do something – anything, without a clue what he really needed and whatever he lacked.

But now in this glorious moment, in which he could finally assuage his torturing mind by actually doing something productive, he felt suddenly at peace. It was like the world consisted of endless possibilities and he was window-shopping. He felt powerful, knowing it was for the most part true – he could change what have been to suit his desired ending and his spirit soared at the thought.

He followed Hagrid to the bank, then spent the better part of the three hours shopping, by the end of which, he felt even happier than before. He'd gotten the things he needed for school of course, and along with them several books on potions, a couple of readings on occlumency, and a few other things he was quick to put away from Hagrid's eyes. _'Now,'_ Harry thought, _'it is time to do the real work.'_

* * *

><p>Once he got back to Privet Drive, he locked himself in his room, undisturbed by the Dursleys who, just as he remembered, went on to pretend he didn't exist. Without a certain schedule, as it was Hermione's patent to devise such and not his, Harry tried combining the two subjects in his daily studies. Soon it became easier to imagine himself being good in both, well, mainly in potions as all his books didn't go further than third grade, but in occlumency too, Harry felt an improvement. It was not so much the books that helped him there – it was comparing the written information with the hints Snape had given him back when he taught Harry. For instance, the potions master had once said that similar thing was expected in occlumency as with withstanding the Imperious curse. And Harry, reading in the book that what was really the key to getting someone out of your mind, was a firm and unwavering attitude towards expelling the intruder, finally realized what Snape had meant and couldn't help but feel a bit stupid about his multiple outbreaks, which evidently had set him back to point one. It was curious that now Harry felt he could actually do it. He didn't know what to attribute this to. There was of course his new manipulative side expressing itself now that he needed to keep his attitude in control in order to keep his real intentions private. But there was also the fact that he'd taken the task seriously for the first time. Either way it was working and Harry was not only glad, but starting to scheme new plans for the upcoming year. He started spying on his relatives to find out who went where and when and on the many occasions in which only his aunt was in the house he ventured down to try and speak to her. This was a great feat in itself, because Petunia Dursley almost always insisted on not noticing him. It wasn't until he pushed her aside and started doing the dishes with magic that she recognized he was present (though the recognition was expressed mainly with shouting). Harry, however, was too happy to be put off by this. Here he'd put a toe out of the line and nothing happened. No tingle, no strange sensations, no tug, no pull, no nothing to indicate he'd broken the rules. It must have been, Harry thought, that this was too irrelevant a thing to have any real consequences.<p>

"Relax, aunt Petunia," he was quick to say as she stopped yelling at him for the second needed to draw a breath. "I'm just helping you with the dishes, nothing sinister is going on. And besides, this way it's much quicker, see?", he finished waving his hand to indicate all the work was done. His aunt didn't seem to have anything to say to this and in it Harry saw his chance. "I can do magic here only before I start school so I thought I should help you round while I can." He smiled. "Now, anything else you wish done today?"

Petunia was hesitant at this point and Harry saw his idea really had merit. It was obvious she was still just as much envious of magic, as she was in her childhood. In the end, she caved in and told him what he could do around the house, making a strong point on doing it only while uncle Vernon and Dudley weren't home.

Once he'd finished the chores (and really, magic sped that up immensely), it was time to get to the real point of this. And so Harry sat down on the living room couch next to his aunt.

"Listen, aunt Petunia, I was wondering… You know, now I know what really happened to my parents and all… if you could tell me, you know, about my mother." He said hesitantly enough for his aunt to look at him. "Because – well, she's my mum and I really want to know what kind of a person she was." Harry finished saying with the expected genuine sadness in his eyes, which this subject never failed to bring.

* * *

><p>(01.09.1991)<p>

The last month in Privet Drive for the year passed quickly with Harry's daily routine and at last came September the first, the day he'd been waiting for with as much excitement, as trepidation ever since he came back.

"_Well, there you are, boy. Platform nine — platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"_*, Harry didn't even register uncle Vernon's nasty smile. How could he, when there was just one stone barrier left between him and the magical world.

Then something else happened, that he hadn't counted on. His aunt approached him to whisper in his ear.

"You just walk through the barrier between numbers nine and ten to get to your platform.", was what she said and Harry had trouble controlling his features and whispering "Thanks." to her. Now this was strange and Harry had to consider if there wasn't another answer as to why he was allowed to change the timeline in her presence. Surely, the way to save Snape wasn't to get on good terms with his aunt. Except if… was Harry supposed to get his aunt and Snape together?

Thankfully, this disgusting thought left him as soon as he saw the Weasleys approaching the platform. Then, just as before, he followed them ready for a first-day performance.

* * *

><p>* All italics stand for direct quotes from the book, ("Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone", by J.K. Rowling) incorporated in the text.<p> 


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

><p>(<em>evening of<em> 01.09.1991)

'_You can't put me in Slytherin'_ was the first thing Harry told the hat immediately after putting it on his head. He heard a grunt in response.

'_I can't put you anywhere. Take me off.'_

'_What do you mean you can't put me anywhere? I cant take you off till you sort me.'_

'_You are already sorted!'_ the hat argued. _'Is this a joke?'_

'_You know it isn't a joke or were you bluffing when you said you can see what's in my mind?'_

'_What am I supposed to do then?'_

'_Well,' Harry considered ' you could just shout Gryffindor and get it over with.'_

'_Why would I do that?'_

'_Because I'm not taking you off until you do.'_

'_You're still sure about Slytherin?' _the sorting hat sniggered.

'_Positive. Now, please.'_

'_Well, you did say 'please' – then –'_ Harry sighed feeling tired after this conversation."GRYFFINDOR!"

He didn't hear the cries of the other lions as he stepped away from the podium and off to the Gryffindor table on shaking legs. Up until now it was all too chaotic and happening too fast for him to be able to think straight. But now as he sat down, he finally felt at peace again. He was home at last, back to where everything was alright and everybody was alive and well. He glanced towards the head table, his heart skipping when he saw first Dumbledore and then Snape. Harry let his eyes linger on the latter for a few moments. Sadly the joy that struck him at the sight dispersed in a manner of seconds and instead was replaced with a deep sinking feeling, a mixture of the sorrow, regret, helplessness, and the strongly pressing guilt he was too familiar with by now. Harry turned his gaze from the head table finding himself unable to look any longer at Snape. It was illogical to feel this way, irrational to have those regrets now when he was here at last, about to change them. Still it felt as if the image of the dying man from his nightmares has appeared in daytime to torment him.

Thankfully it was Ron's turn and this provided the much needed distraction from his thoughts at least for a little bit. Harry clapped along with the others and then, after congratulating Ron sank into himself once more. He tried to think of all the opportunities ahead of him and chase away the images. He wouldn't let this man die if it was the last thing he did, Harry told himself, determined enough to believe his own words. And still he wasn't ready when he felt the familiar tug telling him it was time to look again. HE took a deep breath, mad at himself for the inappropriate overboard feelings and looked up to where Snape and Quirrell were having a conversation.

Then just as before the potions master stared back at him, his eyes full of the usual loathing.

"_Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head. _

"_What is it?" asked Percy. _

"_N-nothing."*_

Harry was quick to look away and stare at his plate instead. He didn't like the look Snape gave him in the least. Was he imaging it or was it more loathing than usual? Couldn't have been, he hadn't even introduced himself yet. Thinking to speed up his plans, at first he didn't feel the pull to talk further. It was when it happened for the third time that he sprang to life and turned to the prefect by his side.

"_Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked Percy. _

"_Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to — everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."*_

Harry couldn't hold in the sigh those words provoked or the thoughts that ensued. No, but he had to – he had to start forcing himself to do as was needed from now on and this would be a good start. Instead of pondering over the potions master's personality, he could do better by making a plan for the next couple of days while eating; make sure he went with it later and finally execute it. It would be merely five days until he'd have to face Snape. It wouldn't do to go headfirst unprepared or Snape might just get the right idea of him, rather like he had the first time they met.

While he thought about it, he heard the first signs of a tune and immediately snapped out of it only to find it was nothing more than the old school song. And then before long they found themselves walking up the grand staircase with Percy who couldn't decide it seemed whether he wanted to call for Peeves or chase him away. Next they were in the dormitory and Harry found himself a bit overwhelmed with memories at the sight of it. It wasn't until everybody else fell asleep that Harry stood up and walked away from his four-poster to go down to the empty common room and sit by the fireplace. It felt unreal maybe for the first time since he came back to be here. He couldn't help but think that if he closed his eyes, he'd wake up to discover all of this was a dream. But no, Harry tried to reason with himself as he shook his head sharply, it was very much real and he'd better make the most of it before he ruined everything. Still what felt most surreal of all was seeing Snape in the Great Hall very much alive and so familiar it hurt his chest to look for too long to where he was standing. And even with this one glance Harry sensed how difficult his job would be, for as those obsidian eyes have locked with his and he saw the hatred in them, Harry found that while the other feelings in him played tap-dancing on his nerves, underneath them the old feelings towards Snape started bubbling their way up his chest. It was more of a vague awakening from slumber than real feelings then, but as he thought about it later, while he waited for his dorm mates to fall asleep, he realized it was a threat to his plans. Were he to fall into the old and familiar mutual loathing ritual, he was doomed. He had to remind himself then and even now insistently that he was pretty much wrong about the man. Well sure, he was a vindictive git, a bully of a teacher and for the most part unreasonable in his hatred of Harry, but he was also a repentant, self-sacrificing, loyal to the very end kind of a person and those should pose enough of an evidence for Harry to be unrelenting in following his task. He couldn't afford to get frustrated by a few sharp words in his direction, or a malicious look, or anything for that matter. No, Harry decided on that spot, he would save the git's life even if it was against his will that he did it.

(06.09.1991)

The rest of his night up to four o'clock passed in diligent work at emptying his mind of emotions which wasn't easy even as he'd pretty much pondered over all the small matters that wrestled in his brain beforehand.

The next few days went pretty much the same as he remembered them, with insistent feelings of déjà-vu in every other conversation that took place. He found that remembering everything was a cumulative process, which by the end of the week had almost reached the point of Harry reciting lines before they were uttered. At least in this stage of the year it was amusing to engage in such activity. As for his nights, for the most part they all passed with him in front of the fireplace in the common room after everybody else had fallen asleep, either practicing occlumency all night or in a couple of cases reviewing his first grade potions book. This was also the case in Thursday and he was tempted to spend all night at the task but he felt it would be more prudent to try closing his mind a few more times.

'_Like it would have made any real difference!'_, Harry scolded himself as he ate breakfast the next morning feeling completely unprepared for the confrontation to follow.

The only corporeal result in his training all night for a week were the, now visible from distance, dark circles under his eyes. At least even if anybody noticed, they didn't mention it and Harry was grateful because he didn't honestly think he could have come up with an excuse for his behavior given a decade to think.

Harry supposed his body was much too young and too small for this kind of effort because he was starting to get seriously dizzy getting up. When he thought about it, he didn't remember ever spending such an amount of time working on anything without proper rest.

When he saw Hedwig landing on the table in front of him however, he tried to pull himself together. The time for his first potions class was getting nearer with every second and he couldn't afford to fall apart today.

* * *

><p>(<em>later on<em> 06.09.1991)

Harry stepped into the dungeons classroom feeling the familiar wave of cold air engulf him and make him shiver slightly. Somewhere along recalling the rows of jarred animals, a sudden vivid memory hit him and he nearly stumbled on the way to his seat next to Ron. Stifling this as quickly as he could manage, he felt even more aware of the unsteady thumping of his heart beneath the Gryffindor robes. No matter how hard he tried to encourage himself, Harry was still certain it would take one look for Snape to discover his secret. 'No, if push comes to shove, even if it's stupid, I'll just…' his thought trailed off as the door closed behind the potions master and Harry immediately locked his gaze on the desk.

And sure enough, just like the first time, Snape began the class by taking the roll call. Hearing his voice left Harry transfixed much akin a statue as he felt terrified he might involuntary glance up and find Snape's eyes. Next, hearing his own name pronounced with such loathing by that same voice almost made him do just that but he managed to steel himself quickly enough. As the list of names ended and Snape started his speech however, Harry decided he should look somewhere else and soon, before Ron noticed his unusual behavior and drew attention to the both of them. Harry glanced around but, as the space that was the classroom lacked anything suitable for staring at, he found the task of choosing something pretty hard. By the end of the speech the most innocuous thing he could find to do was to stare right ahead at the wall.

"…_even stopper death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."*_

Harry half-smirked but immediately tried to clear his expression of that particular revengeful joy. It wouldn't do to leave it on his face as he knew what was about to follow, and anyway, he shouldn't be feeling this way in the first place.

"_Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" _

"_I don't know, sir," said Harry. _

_Snape's lips curled into a sneer. _

"_Tut, tut — fame clearly isn't everything."*_

"However, if you add valerian roots, and the juice of a sopophorous bean, it _might_ produce the Draught of Living Death – sir." he ventured pensively, certain the potions master at least narrowed his eyes at this. Harry tried hard to control his features when he realized he'd inadvertently side-tracked from his original plan. He surely hadn't come here in determination to mock Snape and yet, so far he'd achieved nothing more.

Suddenly the potions master was right there in his field of vision, lowering his tall frame to shield him threateningly from view and Harry's natural reaction to this was to duck his head and try to go back in his seat as far as possible to the renewed sniggering from the Slytherins as their head of house hissed in his face.

"If semantics is a priority of yours, Mr. Potter, I'd be delighted to land you a book on the subject. As it is, you have just lost a point to your house for your naiveté to think I would put up with cheek as simple and childish as yours."

Having said that, he left Harry trembling with shock and the beginnings of anger. Squeezing the end of the desk to steel himself, he tried to breathe deeply telling himself it definitely wasn't his fault. Surely even if he had simply answered the question, Snape would still find something to latch upon and make him pay for existing.

They have already made half the potion when Harry finally snapped out of it, determined not to give Snape any more excuses to hiss today. As though in a haze, he saw in peripheral vision Neville reach for the porcupine quills when memory hit him and he jumped, squeezing the boy's hand just when it reached the top of the cauldron. But as he grabbed him, Neville's arm froze and as the startled boy looked sideways at him, Harry saw the quills leave his palm and fall straight to the boiling substance beneath. Seeing his mistake, Harry half squeezed his eyes shut before recovering straight thought and pulling Neville away from the table instead.

"Professor!" he called shakily just as the cauldron started hissing.

"So… How exactly did the porcupine quills get into the cauldron, Mr. Longbottom?" Snape asked once he'd cleared the whole mess with a wave of his wand.

"It was Potter, professor!" Malfoy managed to say still sniggering.

"Ah, Potter," Snape drawled turning immediately to face him. "But of course."

"It wasn't Harry's fault!" Ron was quick to say. "He tried to stop –"

But the potions master wasn't listening to the read-headed boy. His eyes bore into Harry's face and though he tried his best to study his shoes thoroughly, Harry could still feel his look threatening to burn holes where it lingered.

"I see my class isn't as interesting as the famous Harry Potter would like it to be. Thought it would be funny to have a little explosion in the middle of the session, Potter? Or are you merely not one to miss on the chance to degrade one of your fellow classmates?" Snape suddenly grabbed the front of Harry's robes startling him out of his streaming thoughts and any hope of escaping the situation he might have had. Then the potions master hissed to him for a second time, and Harry wished for nothing more than to have melted along with Seamus' cauldron. "Listen to me, Potter. I will not tolerate such behavior in my classroom and if you wish – to continue your education in Hogwarts, you will do best to remember this."

This situation put Harry into a bit of a dilemma. It was either his dignity or Snape's authority that could be spared here and though Harry couldn't remember the former ever paying off, he still had to take in that the result of this dreaded potions class was much worse than what he'd imagined possible. If he left such an awful impression now... how could he even hope to compensate it later? No, he had to act now, being mediocre or worse.

Harry clenched his muscles feeling the lump in his throat tighten as well and when his vision clouded he looked up to meet Snape's eyes. A faint echo of the potions master's voice sounded in his head. '_Look at me'_. Harry shook his head slightly to the sides shocked by the emersion of the memory and tried to focus on the present. Snape wasn't dying now. In fact he was very alive and very angry, and probably looking for the truth in his eyes. As he averted his gaze, Snape let go of him.

"I will remember it, sir." He muttered more to himself as the potions master had turned his back on him and was currently walking back to the front of the classroom.

"Back to your own cauldrons!" Snape snapped to the room in general once he'd reached his desk.

'Just – great' thought Harry scornfully, trying in vain to clear his vision without taking off the glasses. The spite still bubbled in him, making his eyes hurt all the more as he repressed further unwarranted displays of emotion. But this left him with no options now, didn't it? All his plans would have to be erased, because now Harry was certain he had no clue how to go about this and moreover, he wasn't sure anymore that he could actually change a thing – or at least for the better, because for the worse… he seemed to have a knack alright.

An hour passed in which Harry tried his best not to screw the potion as he had everything else. At last, after what seemed a day or two, the class was at an end. Harry watched as everybody filed out but as Ron tapped him on the shoulder in question, he gave him a sign to go ahead and leave him behind. As the last student left the classroom Harry inched closer to the teacher's desk where Snape seemed to be absorbed in work. Just when he finally thought of a way not to startle him however, the potions master lifted his head, narrowing his eyes as he found Harry there.

"I wanted to apologize, sir." Harry blurted out afraid Snape could say something more to aggravate him before he did the right thing. As the potions master didn't react with anything more than lifting an eyebrow, Harry's eyes glued to the floor. "My behavior was inexcusable – it won't happen again. But…"

"But?" Snape's nostrils flared even though his tone didn't sound dangerous, but Harry had no way of noticing this.

"I was only trying to help Neville ." he muttered feeling all the accumulated resolve going down the drain.

"You were trying to help Mr. Longbottom by adding porcupine quills in his cauldron in this stage of the potion." Snape stated. "Are you daft, Potter, or do you think I am?"

"I wasn't trying to put them in!" Harry exclaimed looking straight at him now – almost daring him to breach his mind despite the insistent little voice that was trying with all its might to reverberate inside him. "I was trying to keep _him_ from doing just that. But I failed… obviously."

Snape squinted at him trying to determine his next move it seemed. It was a bizarre look nonetheless.

"Do you have anything else to say, Potter?" he asked dismissively in the end.

"No, sir, just that I'm sorry to have caused trouble." The sigh that followed, clearly showed just how fed up Snape was at this point. "Good day, sir." Harry mumbled and almost ran out of the classroom.

* * *

><p>(still later on 06.09.1991, Friday)<p>

Damn but he'd completely forgotten just how scary the man could be, especially as he was still far taller than an eleven-year-old.

Thoughts of Snape and the disastrous first class kept haunting Harry all the while through tea with Hagrid, then persisted through dinner and didn't abate even when he finally went to bed that evening. This was of course for the better because Harry needed to focus on the problem either way. If he continued like this through the year all would be irrevocably lost. Feeling much like kicking himself he lay awake into the small hours, too upset to try any practice tonight and just thought over every little detail that went wrong in the class. He didn't need long pondering to reach the conclusion it was his fault. He'd known it on the spot of course – whose else's could it have been when only he had acted differently? No matter what happened next however, Harry knew the option to give up didn't really play. He'd just have to come up with a better plan and better control over his own arrogance.

* * *

><p>(7th of September, 1991, Saturday)<p>

So Saturday morning found Harry the first to enter the library. This was fortunate and wasn't exactly a chance occurrence since the boy in question had been waiting outside for it to open for a straight hour. Once inside, he didn't waste time, but attached himself to the shelves and only a minute later ventured to the sitting area with five large books.

He only emerged for lunch for half an hour and spent the whole afternoon reading in the company of Harry. Her presence there was an implication he hadn't considered though. They weren't exactly friends yet and it was only a matter of time Snape found out his little shameful secret. Harry couldn't even begin to think on how his friend would react to his new hobby.

Nevertheless Harry had an agenda and was determined to stick to it. It helped to believe he wouldn't be able to do it if he were to change something significant by going there. No, the fact that he could get up from his bed, venture downstairs and enter the library was enough proof that this was where he was supposed to be instead of wasting his time upstairs and maybe playing exploding snap.

His next few days proved relatively productive as for one Harry had found the disillusionment charm in an advanced spell book and his practice with it was fruitful. The fact that he could only get his Invisibility cloak during the following holidays had been a major set-back to his plans, but now he was once again free to roam the castle on a whim as long as nobody found him out. But who would find him out when fate was on his side now? Feeling progressively giddy, he went on to read advanced potions books and not even hiding it, for he did this even on the Gryffindor table during meals. If anybody noticed, Harry would never find out as even Hermione didn't mention it.

In much the same way passed all the seven days separating Harry from his next dreaded potions lesson. Harry of course foolishly hoped he could change the impression he'd made upon the potions master.

As it was, he soon discovered time passed really slow when he'd put close to every minute of his life to some use. The good thing was he'd had a few nice insights to the potions master's path of logic. One, he established Snape didn't care how smart somebody was if one was a Gryffindor. Second, he took pleasure in entering a conversation with a Gryffindor only if there would be a chance to sneer and/or take considerable amount of points (which seemed to progress with age, but really Harry didn't mind compared to the overall consequences). Third, the only thing Snape didn't seem to be immune to was sucking up (now whether this applied to everybody was anyone's guess. Here Harry had to vote for a Slytherin-only opportunity, but he wasn't averse to test it in any case). Now, really, given those and the information Harry had of Snape's history and resulting personality he thought he could easily adopt a manner of behavior that could melt even the potions master's cold shell of an attitude. Still he had some persistent moral qualms about this course of action of course. Playing a role wasn't' honest, wasn't a Gryffindor thing to do, and generally wasn't a nice trick to play on anybody. But as it turned out, Harry wasn't a very moral creature to begin with. Not when saving somebody's skin was the priority and this was the shortest path.

* * *

><p>(14th of September, 1991, Friday)<p>

"Potter!", the potions master snapped in the middle of a lecture. "Repeat what I just said."

Harry blinked a bit surprised but didn't bother to move so much as a finger. Since he'd come in, he'd been glued to his seat, eyes fixed on nothing in particular but decidedly away from Snape.

"'Never add chunks of powdered snake fang to the concoction if they are larger then a square millimeter. The Nettle leaves –'"

"To see whether a leaf was dried properly and hasn't sustained damage through the…" Snape interrupted him without further questions and went on to explain today's practical.

Harry held his smirk as he saw that Hermione was watching him with something akin to adoration from a couple of seats to the left. If only Snape would be this easy to charm…

* * *

><p>(15th of September to 24th of October, 1991)<p>

As the weeks passed nothing significant happened outside Harry's head. Now in there was some considerable commotion. On the half way of his attempts to 'charm' Snape he'd stopped to consider why at all he was trying to do this and all his efforts stopped abruptly from this moment on as he didn't much like any of the probable answers. Apart from this, his ego was now completely satisfied with the work on both potions and occlumency. In potions for one he'd gone so far as third grade curriculum by now and could recite every potion recipe, its uses, and the properties of all the ingredients needed to brew it if asked. With occlumency he was progressing steadily, though with this came the major set back of the continual lack of sleep he endured. As it was, nowadays his classmates and teachers could clearly see the signs of overexertion. They could of course try attributing it to his quidditch practices – that is if they knew he was on the team. Since they did not, Harry was surprised he hadn't been summoned to Dumbledore's office yet.

(25th of October, 1991, Friday)

It was the usual dreadful potions lesson in the end of October as it had been from the beginning of the year. As always Snape went about the classroom talking in his almost inaudible lecture voice for half the duration of their time together. Harry didn't pay attention to what Snape said anymore. He didn't pay attention to anybody these days as the only thing that mattered was that there was still too much time till anything of significance happened.

"You will have an hour and a half to –"

"But, sir, this is –"

Harry turned his head to better see if it was indeed Hermione that had spoken up. It was the least to say unusual for anybody – even a Slytherin – to interrupt this teacher.

"I am aware, Miss Granger. In fact more aware than you are of what I am talking about and why. Now, you will sit quietly and won't interrupt me further, unless you wish points to be taken from your house."

"Yes, sir." Hermione replied blushing visibly and Harry eyed her one more time before focusing on the script that emerged on the blackboard in the front.

'Shrinking solution it is' Harry thought, 'A child's play.' Smirking, he went up first to get the supplies. Harry was starting to wonder how he could ever have found the subject of potions hard. But, he still remembered, it must have been harder for an eleven year old to understand.

At the end of the class, as was the usual conclusion nowadays, only he and Hermione had succeeded in making the potion correct and mind, Harry thought his was way better than hers as he'd killed the disgusting smell, it could be recognized by, with a solution of his own that was much more complex than the potion itself. As a result however, Hermione got a nod from Snape and Harry got a glare, as if the potions master was implying he knew Harry cheated in some way. No points were given of course. For rubies to start flowing into the Gryffindor glass seemed a crime of sorts to one Severus Snape.

* * *

><p>(31st of October, 1991)<p>

On the morning of Halloween Harry woke up early still greatly puzzled. Two nights previously he, Hermione, Ron and Neville, much as before, had encountered Fluffy, and to his dismay, despite all the time they'd spent together, Hermione chose to say the exact same words she'd said the last time around. It was good of course, because now Harry could be fairly certain there was no question about his influence on tonight's events. On the other hand though, as none of his efforts seemed to count, how was he supposed to prevent Snape's death?

It was fortunate he didn't have the time to ponder more over this as the classes were about to start, because he could feel it was a line of thought that could easily get him depressed. He spent the day instead in watching events repeat themselves with him – trying to stand out of their way.

Once he was back in bed, Harry sighed deeply. Not the tiniest difference – it was just as good as it was bad. Luckily something different _was_ about to occur, Harry thought lying down, as soon as they fall asleep. He felt rather stupid waiting there without the Marauders' map, but as much as he wanted, he had decided it would be too tricky to try and get it from the twins any earlier. It was much the same with his Invisibility cloak but Harry didn't mind since there was a fairly simple spell to replace it. The map though, was one of a kind.

Finally, almost an hour later he couldn't hear a sound from his mates, save for Ron's snoring, so he took his wand, disillusioned himself and got out of the room as quietly as was possible. This would be a test, he knew, as the charm was very different from what he was used to. Two things could go wrong with it. For the first Harry had to be still if someone was looking his way and for the second which was the real test – he had to remain calm through the whole ordeal. He had no idea how to do just that once he faced Harry, but he couldn't imagine proceeding with his plan if he didn't learn to control his emotions either. So, Harry walked down the staircase trying hard to keep his determination with each step he took. By the time he reached the dungeons however all of it had gone from him. what was more he found himself shivering in the cold, a thing that didn't bid well if he was to meet somebody on his way. Walking along the corridors searching for the potions master, he couldn't help but tell himself what a huge mistake this was. He was about to turn around and run in forfeit of all plans when he saw Snape at last. The professor was staggering towards a portrait at the far end and Harry momentarily wondered how far he'd gone into the labyrinth that was the Hogwarts dungeons because he didn't remember ever seeing such portrait before. It had to be Snape's quarters, he decided immediately and thinking fast, Harry knelt on the floor by the wall. There he took the same small oval box he'd been carrying all day and holding his breath rolled it on the floor towards the potions master. It rolled fast so when Snape turned around at the sound it had already reached his feet. There was a long moment in which Harry went completely still wondering if anyone had ever died by holding one's breath for too long. The potions master looked straight at him as though he could see Harry kneel there and Harry didn't even dare look down to see if he was still invisible. Then at last Snape bent to retrieve the box and seconds later, after one last look, swept through the portrait and out of sight. Harry dared only exhale but waited a few minutes to be sure it was safe and then darted back, running all the way to Gryffindor tower.

* * *

><p>*Again those italics stand for direct quotes from the book, ("Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone", by J.K. Rowling) incorporated in the text.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for the feedback and for reading, of course! I really appreciate it.<strong>

_**Lucifer's Lament, **_I'm especially grateful for your review as it was the very first I received here. According to Rowling (in some interview or another) Ginny's character was supposed to have played Quidditch professionally for a couple of years before marrying Harry or something like that - so all in all that made her far more independent than the image I painted here, but I suppose it's pretty much irrelevant. Anyway, thanks a lot!

_**Ty Rose,**_ a couple of days ago I gave that very segment to a friend that always pesters me to write, and what I actually asked her was if I should have made it more intense than this :D Then she gave me a similar response to yours. Now I see she had a point. Curious, that one. Thanks!

* * *

><p><strong>A.N.<strong>:Harry flipped somewhere in the middle and did a 180 degrees turn. Now, perhaps I should have elaborated further as to why, to make it logical, but I didn't feel like it - there are more important segments in my head I need to match and this one is almost self-explanatory.

For those who are familiar with the little odd facts in the books, 25th of October should carry a clue for explaining the future development of the story :P

Also I'm experiencing strange problems with my text editor - from time to time it tries to change all the names to a singular one (seemingly arbitrarily chosen). Sometimes even September tries to fascinate me turning to Snape, and I have no idea how to stop this terror :D. I hope I've cleared all those particular "obscenities" in the current document however...

On a different note, I'd love to get feedback on the introspection approach I seem to have adopted - I'm starting to feel it's a bit too much and maybe a more dynamic approach is in order.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

(01st of November, 1991)

Surely he had been invisible when he had returned to the tower last night but by the look Snape gave him on his entrance to the classroom, Harry could easily decide on the opposite. It wasn't a single look either. From time to time the professor would turn to him while speaking with the same – was it a death glare? – look on his face which told Harry for sure that the potions master somehow _knew_ it was him in the dungeons last night. Harry attempted to avoid his gaze for the better part of the class until the last few minutes when he felt it became quite the ridiculous behavior as Snape loomed over their table to check the potions' progress. So then Harry ventured an innocent gaze upwards, his mind decidedly revolving around the point of his professor's ill nature.

"Mr. Potter, stay after class." Snape drawled calmly to the usual sniggers.

Harry frowned trying to find an innocuous reason for this. Had his potion perhaps been too good to be his work now? He hadn't even put the usual effort today as he was too busy fearing his professor's gaze.

As it turned out it was pretty pointless to try and guess the potions master's next move. Once everybody else but the both of them was gone Harry frowned and summoned five small phials from the cupboard and onto his desk. Harry simply stared at them until the professor prompted him.

"I don't have all day, Potter, be so kind as to _come._" He enunciated coldly and Harry's legs moved without help from his brain. 'What now?' thought he 'What am I supposed to have done?' These weren't even the potions the first years have been making.

"Name them from left to right." Snape commanded and it was Harry's turn to frown. 'What's the meaning of this?' he asked himself while staring at each bottle in turn. Veritaserum was the first one. Did Snape suspect he'd been making Veritaserum illegally? A bit of a feat for a first year, was he mad? Or perhaps he suspected Harry'd just been feeding it to someone? Had perhaps stolen it from his private stores? Now that sounded just the thing Snape would think of him. Next was Polijuice potion though. Was he supposed to have drank polijuice to mask his appearance and then to have fed the Veritaserum to someone? And Draft of Living Death? Mask himself, feed somebody truth potion and then submerge them into a coma? Amortentia? Disguised, uncovering the truth about someone's true feelings, killing the informatory and spicing some innocent girl's meal with love potion? Harry's head was buzzing by this point of his observations.

"Potter!" Snape finally snapped and Harry shuddered trying to stop the phials' untold story from evolving. "If you can't name the first, start with the second for Merlin's sake! As I have already pointed out, I don't have all day."

Harry shook his head trying to clear it.

"No, sorry, sir." He muttered. "They are Veritaserum, Polijuice potion, Draft of Living Death, Amortentia and Dreamless Sleep potion." He barely managed to stop a 'What are you accusing me of?' from escaping his lips, while he wondered if the dreamless sleep was supposed to be for his own guilty conscience.

"Why is it that you know what you do of potions, Potter?", Snape asked it seemed despite his better judgment.

This didn't even sound as an attempt at accusation. Then what could it be? Snape'd never cared to do anything but accuse and insult him before. Harry blinked repeatedly trying to decipher any trap this question might hold. There didn't seem to be any.

"It is an interest of mine, sir.", Harry said at last in what he hoped was a respectful tone. Well it was the truth alright. And perhaps it would have been the true the last time if a certain professor wasn't trying his best to make him hate everything even remotely related to potions.

"Ah, yes, I should have guessed as much." Snape hissed through gritted teeth. "You would then it seems care to know you can attend advanced lessons in the subject." With this said the professor glared in his general direction and turned on his heels to walk away. "Dismissed."

Harry stared unmoving as Snape strode to his desk. _'Why? What – Oh…oh!'_ While the gears turned the professor sat down and pretended to be busy. Or was busy? That wasn't the point.

"I don't." Harry said after what seemed like an hour.

"What was that, Potter?" as Snape's question sounded genuine Harry realized he was pretty close in the estimation of the time passed.

"I don't want to attend advanced lessons, sir."

To this Snape answered by staring blankly at him.

"Do take your time with the decision, Potter."

"No point." He shoot immediately.

"And why precisely are you so determined so quickly?", Snape asked leaving his text completely.

"I annoy you." Harry said smiling.

"Very observant. What's that to do with anything?"

"Is somebody else going to tutor me through those advanced classes?"

"Who would you suggest?" Snape asked sardonically.

"My point exactly. I annoy you." He repeated and the professor glared.

"Has it never crossed your mind that there would be an easier solution to this problem than dismissing an opportunity? You could just – stop." He stressed and Harry almost laughed.

"Stopp existing or stop annoying you? Because I think the first is the only solution for the second… sir. And to stop would suggest I have started in the first place." Harry lifted his bag and sighed. "Thank you, sir. Please tell the headmaster I haven't actually been as interested in potions as I let on. My books – the books I've read during meals – are muggle books with switched covers – and – Hermione's helped me with them… No, that's not right… Whatever. Have a nice day, sir."

* * *

><p>On exiting, Harry had the overwhelming desire to bang his head on the nearest wall. What had possessed him to decline even after Snape had insisted?<p>

He went on up by the stairs and out through the main gates of the castle to stroll down the hill and to the lake. By the time he reached the water he'd remembered the reason for his behavior in the memory of his many occlumency lessons with Snape. It was for the best that he steered clear of his path at least until he found a way to change the professor's opinion about him. Still how he could change his opinion about anything if he didn't spend time with the man was a mystery to Harry.

Other questions have risen too as he'd walked along the path. A tangled mess of intermittent threads of them was the main content of Harry's mind by the time he did a round and reached the meadow by the entrance to the Forbidden forest. It was strange that things should change even marginally where Snape was concerned and not a micrometer away from the original timeline where he was not. All his concepts of cause and effect were falling apart before the picture that was transpiring behind the innocuous change of Snape asking him to attend advanced classes. First of all it was obvious this was Dumbledore's doing beyond any doubt, as Snape would never so much as spare a thought about Harry without insulting or mocking him. And since he, Harry had not yet managed to do anything of substance to change Snape's mind, it was safe to conclude the potions master still acted according to the last timeline. Dumbledore on the other hand did not. He had asked Snape to give Harry tutoring outside of the regular classes. He must have been the one who noticed Harry's pronounced interest in potions. Why then had nothing else changed? Surely if Dumbledore's thoughts had, so would his actions. And his actions must then lead to new different thoughts, which in turn – to new actions and so on. And not only Dumbledore would be affected. Surely Dumbledore's thoughts and actions would affect at least one or two others – like they already had altered Snape's actions – and this, if the laws of logic worked correctly, must lead to a spreading of alterations in the timeline. What was most troubling was that nothing else had changed. Not that Harry could see.

"Oy, Harry, stop right there!" the voice of Hagrid sounded suddenly behind him and he turned around. "What d' ya think you're doin' going in the Forbidden forest? Come 'ere."

Harry glanced around to see that indeed that was where he was heading to and frowned.

"Uh, sorry, Hagrid," he muttered once he reached the half-giant. "I didn't look where I was going."

"What are you doin' here anyway?" Hagrid asked frowning a bit.

"Just walking." Harry smiled. "What are _you_ doing? Got any free time?"

"Sure. What's on your mind?"

For just a second the thought that Hagrid really had no idea what to say passed his mind, but instead of thinking it through Harry swirled around.

"Hagrid!", he exclaimed. "Why does professor Snape hate me?"

"W-what'd you say Harry?" the half-giant stuttered. "Hate you? He doesn't hate you." He tried to convince.

"He can't so much as look my way without glaring, Hagrid. And that's not my question. I'm asking why he does."

"Well, how should I know?" asked Hagrid affronted.

"Uh, sorry." Harry sighed and sat on the nearby stone. "It's just that – I can't see what I'm doing wrong."

Hagrid petted him on the shoulder sympathetically and sat down next to him but otherwise stayed quiet.

"Listen, Hagrid, can I tell you something – a secret?"

"Sure you can."

"Professor Snape asked me if I wanted to have extra lessons."

"You havin' trouble with potions, Harry? Gotta tell you, I didn't like it m'self when I was a student."

"No, that's not it. I like it very much. He meant advanced lessons."

"Oh…" Hagrid frowned looking dumbstruck. "Well that's great then!"

"I said no." when Hagrid didn't reply Harry felt bad for wasting the half-giant's time with this conversation. "Because I know he doesn't want to give my any extra lessons."

"Why'd he say it though if he didn't want to?"

"Probably professor Dumbledore made him do it… The thing is, Hagrid – that I'd really like having those lessons. Actually I – but that's to stay between us, right?" he faltered waiting for a confirmation.

"'Course." Hagrid was quick to supply and Harry smiled.

"Actually I like professor Snape – very much. He's smart, you know. _And _ terrifying." He laughed softly. "I bet no one dares to cross him… Anyway I'd really like to have those lessons. But I can't if it means I'll annoy him even more. And I don't want him to hate me. That's why I'm wondering – why does he? And I've come up with nothing." Harry sighed turning his gaze to the ground for a good measure. "Of course it could be many things. I could try to be nicer I guess, but I imagine he'd like me better only If I was somehow to become invisible…"

After a long pause, Hagrid sighed too.

"Eh, I'm hearing you, but I think you've got something wrong there. I'm sure professor Snape doesn't hate you."

"I wish you'd stop treating me like a child." Harry said softly. "I'm not that naïve as to believe you."

"Well a child you are, Harry. And it doesn't matter how smart you are. That's why I'm saying Snape can't hate you. Nobody hates a child with or without reason." Harry stared at Hagrid as if seeing him for the first time. "Try with those lessons and see how it's going." The half-giant patted his knee and stood up. "Now off with you. You're gonna freeze if you stay any longer out here."

Harry smiled half-heartedly and saying goodbye started on the long way around the castle grounds once more. He didn't feel like going in yet. He hadn't figured anything of real importance except that nobody would tell him why Snape hated him. Maybe not even Snape himself. Still it was stupid to worry about this after the development of the day. Even though Snape's offer didn't mean in the least that the professor was happy to have him around, still it was some kind of a progress. If only there wasn't the nagging feeling that he'd missed a valuable opportunity, everything would have been fine. But what else could he have done really? Accept the offer when he knew Snape was practically screaming inwardly against it? What good would it have done to have those lessons? Surely Snape would shout – a lot – at Harry given the chance to have no witnesses around to report his malicious behavior. And then what?

"Harry!" someone shouted in the distance and he turned around to see Ron running towards him. "Where have you been – all afternoon? Hermione almost reported you're missing to Harry! We were worried something's happened to you…"

"I'm alright." Said Harry calmly saving the glare of annoyance at his friends' panic.

"Yeah… What are you doing here anyway?"

"Walking?" Harry guessed.

"Walking, mate? It's freezing! Come on, lets get inside. We're gonna miss dinner if we don't get going."

"Oh…" Harry looked up before following only to see that the sun had almost set behind the mountains. He hadn't noticed how fast the time had passed.

* * *

><p>(later on 01.11.1991, Friday)<p>

Dinner was a silly affair that evening. Everyone was talking either about the troll from the last evening or about the upcoming match against Slytherin. Harry as it was, wasn't interested in either of those topics of conversation and was even hoping Wood would take him out of the hall for a practice despite the fact that he knew he had no reason to imagine it possible on a Friday evening. As he gave up and let his thoughts stray to Snape and their earlier conversation, without intending to, he glanced towards the professor, sitting at the high table. Interestingly enough, the potions master was at that time having a bit of a conversation with the headmaster, but as soon as Harry looked his way, Snape caught the glance and turned to stare. Harry tilted his head a little wondering if Snape somehow sensed him looking and averted his eyes to look at Dumbledore instead. Dumbledore for one didn't turn on the spot and when Harry looked back at Snape he found him turning to the headmaster once more – the headmaster that was now at last looking at Harry and smiled when Harry looked at him too. Harry frowned and turned his gaze quickly down to his unfinished meal.

"I'm going to the library." Announced Hermione after a minute or so and he had no qualms with deciding.

"I'm coming too."

"Not you too!" exclaimed Ron. "Hermione, don't try to convert him or something!"

"Converting him, am I, Ronald? Harry knows what's good for him without my saying anything – unlike other people." She snapped.

"Fine, fine…" muttered Ron grabbing more potatoes from the bowl.

* * *

><p>"What are you looking for?" Hermione asked and Harry figured he must have been looking a bit absent. Actually he had no idea what he was looking for as the general idea for the evening was to get away from the buzz in the hall and to think in peace and quiet.<p>

"A text in Transfiguration." He muttered distractedly mainly because he was currently in the Transfiguration section of the library. Just as he said it though he glanced at a caption on one of the rows. "Here it is." He announced smiling to himself. "Wicked."

It was an advanced school text which Harry knew to consist of animal transfiguration and animagi theory.

"Wow, you sure? That looks a bit complicated for a first year." Harry looked at her smiling broadly. "You know best, I guess."

"I sure do." He replied and almost ran to the nearest table.

Though he certainly hadn't had any plan to sit in the library and read about animagi, the prospect was the least to say appealing. It turned out that even Hermione gave up her reading before him and announced that she'd be going back to the tower.

"Don't take long, Harry," she warned. "It's almost curfew."

* * *

><p>While he sat there alone reading the book, a very nice thought formed into his head. What if he tried it – like his dad and Sirius? He was smart enough, and now he had the time – and besides if Rita Skeeter could do it, so could he. It was very nice indeed to think about it for a few moments and even to dream up what his animal would be – a giant tiger or a venomous snake – but in the end his dream had to be shuttered. How could he allow himself this 'hobby' when there were lives at stake? He was here after all, to change the past, not to play at schooling.<p>

Once the curfew bell rang, he shut the book and returned it to the shelf. He was angry with himself. He should have been worrying more about facing Voldemort when mere months were separating him from it. He should be practicing occlumency whenever he got the chance – not thinking about extra lessons and possible self-training in transfiguration. Yes, he decided, that was what he was going to do from now on.

* * *

><p>(07 of November, 1991, Thursday)<p>

And really so he did – he practiced closing his mind every single night of the following week till the small hours. The only set back in this was that he hadn't yet figured a solution for his destructed sleeping habits. After a brief thought on the subject he'd decided to do his practice in the common room as – besides the room of requirement – this was the most unlikely place to be found out. And besides, he couldn't be caught sneaking in the castle if he never left the tower. Feeling safe there, he was surprised when on Thursday night somebody actually walked in on him.

"Harry? is that you?" Hermione asked coming down the stairs. Harry immediately realized how strange he must look sitting in front of the fireplace, with books open all around him and his eyes closed.

"Yeah." He said in what he hoped was a nonchalant tone. "Why are you up?"

"I realized I forgot to read the chapter on Herbology due for tomorrow and I just couldn't fall asleep."

Harry couldn't help but laugh.

"I thought you've read all of it back at the start of the term."

"Oh I did but I wasn't certain –" she faltered in reaching the armchair. "What are you doing exactly?"

"Oh," Harry glanced around himself trying to act as if he hadn't noticed there was anything to explain. "I was reading for tomorrow too."

"I didn't know you could read better with your eyes closed."

"Oh, this? I was meditating – it helps I found. I remember better if I stop to meditate every once in a while." He invented wildly.

"Meditating?" Hermione didn't sound convinced and he chose that moment to shuffle through his nearest book. "It never occurred to me to try it. It helps?"

"Yeah. I can concentrate better now." He said, hoping to close the subject.

"What are you reading then?" now that wasn't a new subject he liked very much.

"Potions." He decided. At least if she were to ask him further questions about it, he'd be able to answer easily.

"Don't be silly, you know it all."

"Oh, believe me, I don't." he laughed.

"You did the Shrinking solution and it was for third years." She insisted and Harry turned sharply around.

"What did I do?" Hermione looked confused about the shocked expression Harry was sporting.

"The Shrinking solution about three weeks ago –" that was as far as Harry listened to her.

He tried his best to remember the day when this happened. How could he had been this stupid? He could vaguely remember thinking it would be a piece of cake – cause really it was an easy potion to brew. No wonder only he and Hermione had managed to do it. And he even had added – oh, that was bad. And hadn't Hermione interrupted Snape – something he found strange back then…

"That's what you wanted to tell him – Snape – then, wasn't it? That it's a third year potion in case that he'd forgotten we're first years."

"Yes, quite. But Harry, I think he only did it to see if _you_ could make it."

"You think?" he said wryly remembering Snape's glare at the end of that lesson.

"He didn't look very happy when he found out that you could, though." Hermione added as if reading his thoughts.

"Oh that's because of Dumbledore." He answered mechanically only later realizing it.

"What's this to do with the headmaster?" Hermione asked bewildered, sinking down to the floor next to him.

"Uh I shouldn't have said anything, but –" he sighed. Hagrid knew – there was no reason not to tell Hermione as long as Ron didn't find out. Now Ron would be freaked out. "Well, Snape asked me if I wanted to have extra lessons a week ago."

"Really? Oh, that's so nice of him!"

"Nice? We're talking about Snape, Hermione. He's not nice. Besides he only did it because the headmaster must have made him."

"You're not making any sense. Why would professor Dumbledore do that?"

"Because he _is_ nice. Come on Hermione, you can't seriously believe Snape would offer something like this out of the goodness of his heart. The man hates me."

"He does a little bit, yes." She conceded, but this didn't cheer him up him at all.

"Anyway, I shouldn't have made that potion. And I declined the offer for the lessons."

"Why on earth –"

"Didn't you hear me?" he interrupted. "He only asked because Dumbledore made him – he doesn't want to teach me anything. He probably won't mind if I suddenly disappear forever."

"What's that to do with lessons, Harry?" she asked tentatively and he cursed inwardly.

"I just don't think he'll be able to put that aside in our hypothetical lessons. The best that could happen is me failing his high expectations after not a word of instructions and him – gloating about how stupid I actually am. And that's not very inspiring."

"Uh, okay. That's – sorry Harry, but that sounds _very_ hypothetical. There's still a chance Snape decided it all by himself. And before you interrupt me I plan to finish what I came here for and leave you be." she concluded and it wasn't five minutes later that she went back to sleep.

Harry couldn't concentrate further on his occlumency practice that night. What Hermione had suggested was stupid of course. Still it made him think about the situation more closely. He had no doubt Dumbledore'd made Snape offer this, but that didn't really explain why Snape agreed. Of course initially Harry hadn't spared a thought about this – Snape'd done it once before in his fifth year – but now that he pondered on it he could see the difference between those two instances. Of course Snape had agreed to give Harry occlumency lessons, but that was because Harry's life was at stake, not to mention Dumbledore and everyone close to him. Now though, it wasn't in the least important that Harry received any additional lessons in potions in particular. Harry couldn't imagine Dumbledore being very insistent about it, so Snape must have caved in halfway. It was a curious thought that kept him awake even later than usual.

* * *

><p>(8th of November, 1991, Friday)<p>

As a result of his night's activities, Harry looked much more like a ghost than a living person the next morning. And if he thought he could pass the day in his state, he was proven irrevocably wrong during the first class of the day which for his horror was none other than potions. The problem wasn't that he was distracted per say. His actions were so automatic that his thought process seemed to have taken a temporary leave to such a point that he managed not only to make an entirely different potion but also to nod off right next to it still standing on his feet. It was only when Hermione nudged him that he opened his eyes to see how alarmed she was and that Snape was getting close for an inspection. He though he must have missed at least a quarter of the class while a good night's sleep would have assured him he was quite wrong.

When Snape got to him however, suddenly he felt much more awake. Enough in fact to see the slight frown on his professor's face.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter, were you taught how to read?"

"Y-yes, sir." He muttered suddenly alarmed. He had only to take one look to the board and back to his potion to see what was wrong. Harry could really do nothing but gulp in apprehension at this stage.

"If the case is not that you are disabled, I must presume you thought it would be a good laugh to waste the school's ingredients today. Is there an occasion I'm not aware of?" the Slytherins sniggered as it was usual for them to do whenever Snape talked to Harry. He was starting to think they would do it even if there wasn't anything to laugh about, just to spite him.

"I –" Harry started but found he didn't have anything to say.

"You –" Snape mocked him. "Are to stay behind. Everyone else is free."

Harry sighed and sank in his chair as everybody filed out. Snape didn't bother to move an inch while they did, and after they were all gone, he too grabbed a chair and sat across from Harry. It was this which made him look up in renewed apprehension. Snape'd never done such a thing before that he was aware of.

"Explain, Potter." The potions master waved in his direction.

"I – haven't slept very well, professor, I'm sorry." He managed much too easily.

"Do try not stating the obvious if you will." He seemed to figure Harry wouldn't be able to procure much more information after a brief silence though. "I'm curious – as to how you managed to produce – this – while sleepwalking in my class."

"Oh…" Harry squeezed his eyes with apprehension, realizing his voice was getting much too thin even for an eleven year old. "Is it too much to hope it wasn't from the third year curriculum?"

To his surprise Snape snorted. When Harry looked at him the professor indeed seemed to have trouble containing his laughter but calmed down quickly.

"No, you did manage to stay in this year's curriculum, straying only a couple of lessons ahead."

"Oh…"

"Yes, quite. Now if you'd follow me –"

Harry stood up without a word. He was half asleep once again despite the alarming reality of Snape by his side leading him who knew where.

* * *

><p>As they reached the ground floor, Snape picked up what seemed to be the first student he saw wearing gold and scarlet.<p>

"Weasley, come here. Take Potter to the Gryffindor common room." He commanded Fred.

"But, sir –' Harry tried to protest even though Gryffindor tower sounded really good right then. "What about my classes?"

"You will have to learn, Mr. Potter, to take responsibility for your actions _ and _ to think through in advance what the consequences of those actions might be." He replied calmly and went back down the stairs without another word.

"Wow, Harry, what did you do now?"

Harry sighed and turned to the ground staircase.

"I need to sleep. Will you – make sure I don't fall off or something – until I make it to my bed?"

If Fred stared, Harry'd never find out.

* * *

><p>Harry didn't spend the whole day in bed in any case. Around noon something unidentifiable woke him up and he decided he must feel hungry. He got out of bed and down to the great hall only to find everybody going out.<p>

"Harry!" he heard Hermione shout from somewhere behind him. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I couldn't sleep last night, that's all."

"Yeah, mate, we figured."

"What happened in Herbology?"

"Nothing really" she answered. "Professor Sprout must have been notified, because she didn't even mention your absence."

"Uh, that's good. Did I miss anything?"

"Not really." Ron was quick to answer before Hermione could start. "Come on, we were about to go out."

Harry followed them out, but when Hermione took out a jam jar and started conjuring a blue flame, he frowned. He didn't quite remember what'd happened, but he was quite sure Snape was going to come soon. Then Hermione turned around.

"You forgot the book by the way." and extracted 'Quidditch Through The Ages' from her bag. '_Ah, yes'_ Harry thought as he sat down next to her and Ron.

It wasn't a quarter of an hour later that Snape arrived, suspicion ever present in his eyes.

"_What's that you've got there Potter?"*_

Harry showed him the book, knowing perfectly well it'd be confiscated.

"Five points from Gryffindor. Do I need to explain why?"

"No, sir." Harry replied frowning.

"And as I see that you are at last fit to comprehend human speech again, I can now inform you that another fifteen points have been taken from your house due to your – lapse earlier today, and you are to arrive for detention on Saturday at six o'clock in the afternoon, alive and fully awake. Is that understood?"

Harry thought no sentence had the right to be this long but was quick to nod nevertheless.

* * *

><p>By the time Harry went to bed late into the night he'd already given up contemplating what the events of his day could possibly mean. He was tired, he had to admit it at last, and was ready to vow to rest for the next five days at least. Snape was right of course, he had to start thinking in advance about the consequences, and yet he couldn't figure just how he was going to achieve it. He was nothing if not bewildered by the results of his actions so far and he couldn't begin to imagine how he was supposed to have predicted such a thing. But the least he could do was rest and be a hundred percent in shape when it was time to act next. Tomorrow's game after all would pose a great challenge, Harry was certain.<p>

* * *

><p>(9th of November, 1991)<p>

It was funny how everything was as he remembered it after all of the last week's changes.

Once in the locker room Harry felt his heart flutter unsteadily in his chest. this was a moment of great apprehension for him, one of the few certain threats to the timeline as he remembered it. Ready he thought he'd never be and yet there wasn't time left for thinking up strategies for once Harry found himself dressed in his quidditch robes, he heard Oliver Wood clearing his throat and turned around to yet another déjà-vu.

_"Okay, men," he said._

_"And women," said Chaser Angelina Johnson._

_"And women," Wood agreed. "This is it."_

_"The big one," said Fred Weasley._

_"The one we've all been waiting for," said George._

_"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred told Harry, "we were on the team last year."_

_"Shut up, you two," said Wood. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win. I know it."_

_He glared at them all as if to say, "Or else."_

_"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you."*_

Harry followed Fred and George out of the locker room and, hoping his knees weren't going to give way, walked onto the field to loud cheers.

Once madam Hooch gave the signal for the start of the game Harry shot up in the air not really sure what to do with himself. It wasn't seconds later that the well known feeling of twisting in his stomach began making him more than a little unsteady on the broom. 'I know!' he wanted to shout. However insistent this stupid thing wanted to get, there wasn't any chance Harry would do the right thing because really, he had no idea what the right thing _could_ be. And then barely a minute after the pressure began, it disappeared – quite abruptly. So abruptly in fact that dread welled up in Harry in the few fragments of time before that left him too just as suddenly. He needed a moment to realize that not just it, but every feeling had left him. he was certainly somewhere – meaning it was obvious he was still airborne – but he no longer was the pilot of the broom or for that matter – of his body. So Harry could do only one thing and that was watching how Harry turned on his broom a couple of times, moved around, then some more – it was really disconcerting. All he could think was that he had utterly failed. What was he supposed to do now – watch? Okay, watching he could get used to – but for how long? It seemed that now he finally had tested the limits of the spell that'd brought him here, and he could almost see a bright headline in the sky reading "Game Over".

* * *

><p>He had no choice but continue watching himself struggle to keep his body on the broom, then nearly swallow the snitch. As he had nothing else to do at the moment Harry found himself considering that this was actually the first time he realized what had happened in this situation as the first time was a big blur to him. Nevertheless he preferred the blur as this indifferent position he was in was giving him the creeps. Tea with Hagrid and practically the whole day afterwards was much the same and Harry was starting to wonder if he'd ever snap back to his eighteen years old self. Then, when his body travelled all the way to the Hogwarts dungeons on time for Snape's detention Harry wondered how this Harry would know what to do as there wasn't a history to repeat. But just as Snape opened the door to his office Harry found himself flung back in his body just as suddenly as he was separated from it earlier. He would have been ecstatic if he hadn't lost his balance at the momentum and hadn't sprawled face-first on the floor next to Snape. When Harry looked up barely holding in a smug smile, his professor was already next to an open side door and disappearing behind it. It took him a minute to straighten up and marvel at the renewed control he had over himself but at last he followed the potions master.<p>

Then, at the doorway he halted startled. He was in what could only be Snape's personal potions lab. How he had achieved such a feat was incomprehensible for Harry. The room seemed much the same as the professor's office – various ingredients adorned the shelves, which here were placed on every wall, including the inside of the door he noticed as he turned slightly, making it also resemble a storage room. But it was obvious this space had another purpose as in the center of the stone floor stood one long wooden table with four sections for cauldrons and a small separated working space. Currently however only one cauldron was on the table furthest to the right and the substance within was demanding the potions master's attention. On all the rest of the surface however were arranged various ingredients. As Snape had his back on him while stirring the boiling potion, Harry wondered if he indeed had his permission to step inside and therefore attempted to glue himself to the seemingly neutral-zoned doorframe.

"Is this an attempt at a shocked expression?" Snape asked sneering a moment later. "Surely, Potter, you don't believe you are here to be added to the mix." He said while lowering the flame slowly till it was completely extinguished. "As tempting as that may be, currently there are too many witnesses of your whereabouts, so rest assured." The potions master observed him for a few more seconds which made Harry feel rather petrified. "Well?"

"What do you want me to do, sir?" he asked, finally stepping inside the lab.

"You are –" Snape smirked and Harry pursed his lips. Whatever it was, if it caused Snape to be even the tiniest bit happy, it wasn't meant to be pleasant for Harry. "to arrange the ingredients on the table." He finished.

"Arrange them, sir?" Harry asked frowning after a second scan of the workspace.

"Yes, well – if you look carefully enough through them, I daresay you should be able to discover the correct pattern for their arrangement as there is only one possible. Proceed."

With this said the potion master exited back to his office leaving Harry to frown grumpily at the table.

* * *

><p>An hour and a half had passed when Harry, a phial in his hand, opened the door and almost collided with Snape.<p>

"About time, Potter." Snape sneered. "I was starting to wonder if you have decided to inhabit my lab for the rest of the week."

Harry grunted a little ashamed and more than a bit indignant. If Snape could do the task faster than him, Harry would love to see it done.

"Well, I'm done now, sir. Here ." Harry extended the vial he was holding and was consequently surprised by the shock written in Snape's face as the potions master stared at the potion.

"What is – this, Mr. Potter?" his professor asked in one of his calmest and more dangerous of tones.

"Draught of peace, sir?" Harry answered with a frown, wondering if he'd gotten it wrong.

Next thing he knew, Snape had pushed him aside and had shut the door of his private lab behind him. Harry didn't dare leave but moved to the side afraid to stand in Snape's way when he was obviously angry. It quickly dawned on him that he wasn't actually supposed to make the potion, merely to separate the ingredients. Snape would probably come back quite pissed and would most assuredly pronounce his time, ingredients, and words lost to Harry's thick skull and mediocrity. Now back in time or not, Harry wasn't keen on waiting for his professor's wrath to descend upon him. Instead, he opened his bag and hastily scribbled a note on a small piece of parchment. That done, and Snape still absent, Harry hurried out of the office and the damnable dungeons, thinking only that things couldn't get more out of hand.

* * *

><p>A bit later that evening Snape found the note on his desk instead of his student, and after skimming through it, set it on fire with a deep scowl.**<p>

Meanwhile Harry had reached the tower for some time and was pretending to be engrossed in a book in the common room. What he was actually doing was in fact trying to deflect the combined efforts of Hermione and Ron to pull him in a conversation revolving around Snape's supposed attempt to murder Harry on the quidditch pitch. So far he was successful but this was due more to the fact that Hermione was engaged in explanation of something or another to Neville at the far end of the room, and Ron didn't seem as enthusiastic to breech the topic in her absence. He was aware, however, that once she came over, it would be near impossible to deflect their interest in his opinion on the subject of Snape, and it was beyond him to process the implications of the alternatives present.

* * *

><p>For lack of brain process, Harry resorted to bad-mouthing Snape in the end. It didn't do his already guilty conscience any good, but he was glad at least his friends have dropped the subject after merely a couple of conversations. Harry couldn't wait for the year to be over in that respect. Meanwhile however he still had to face an irritated potions master on a weakly basis and he had to form a strategy for future confrontations or else end up screwing things up despite all the efforts.<p>

* * *

><p>** <em>I just realized how moronic it was to attempt to brew a potion in your private lab and even more so in your absence. I'm sorry I wasted the ingredients, and I'm sorry I ran away, sir. I also wanted you to know that I am grateful for what you did earlier today. If it weren't for you, I probably would have died. I hope the draught is usable.<em>

_H.P._

* * *

><p><em>*As usual those italics stand for direct quotes from the book, ("Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone", by J.K. Rowling) incorporated in the text.<br>_

* * *

><p><strong>A.N.<strong>: With this chapter ends everything I've pre-written. I have an early draft of the whole story up to the end of sixth year however, so continuation shouldn't take very long.

* * *

><p>Thank you for reviewing! I hope you'll find this chapter interesting<em> ^^<br>_

**_Ty Rose, _**thanks for the feedback, I really appreciate it. With the laws of 'Fate' and consequently 'Time Travel' I've enforced on the universe, I'll only be able to bring dynamics via the HPSS relationship. Otherwise it would be either AU (which I'd hate) or as you say, a rehash of the first book. Getting through the first and the second books of the series is going to be a difficult experience, because I can't drop a bomb so early and completely alter the interaction of the two - to do so would be meaningless and spoil what I have in store for later years. Still, I'm going to try finding a middle ground.

_**RRW**,_ thanks for the review! That thought's crossed my mind once or twice, but... First of all, I think Harry would be afraid of the response he might get. Second, Snape's reaction might not be positive at all - remember that he asked Dumbledore never to tell, 'especially with Potter's son'...blah,blah. I don't think he'd feel comfortable with Harry knowing he was friends with his mother when in the original series he didn't even use his patronus in his work with the Order in order to hide this long gone relationship. Third, he hated Petunia and it's well known to either party that she hates magic. Bringing her up in such a way would be stupid of Harry, so I don't know if this thought could even cross his mind. Either way, this could serve either to make them too close too fast, or take them to a strange place of an unknown relationship in which Snape would probably avoid Harry like the plague. :D I can't avoid such confrontation forever, so it must happen at some point, but I've decided to place it in Harry's fifth year rather than here_ :) _I hope I haven't disappointed you completely lol_  
><em>


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

><p>(15th of November, 1991)<p>

Harry was careful not to enter the dungeons first, nor to be the last, lest he provoked Snape into paying attention to him or his actions. It didn't work out of course. The events of the last week should have been a good enough warning for what was to come.

He'd only seen Snape during meals and a few times passing him in the corridors of the castle. Every single one of those instances the potions master had a look of utter disgust written on his face and had averted his gaze as soon as he'd seen Harry looking. It sure didn't bid well but Harry wasn't expecting that kind of a disaster to strike him in the potions class. Snape yelled, snapped, argued, and lashed out on him no less than seventeen times for the duration of the practical. He criticized everything from Harry's posture to the knife he was using to chop the roots (which wasn't even his to begin with, though Harry didn't dare mention it).

He took the professor's spite stoically, not even once opening his mouth to defend himself, and just stared blankly at the wall ahead, but instead of pacifying him, this attitude seemed to serve only as further provocation to Snape.

It seemed to Harry, the potions master was glad he didn't defend himself – it seemed he'd at last found a vent for all his frustrations.

* * *

><p>Was it any good? After four weeks of this Snape didn't seem the least bit placated and Harry's patience was wearing thin. All that was left to him to do now was wait for something to happen – for the next big event where his actions could actually mean something. It was boring, it was annoying and it drove him nuts to know that the nearest possible chance would come in a little less than six months. What he had at the moment was a plateful of events and conversations he'd seen and heard before and a man who was out for his proverbial head. So Harry did the only thing he could think of and started a metaphorical life in the library. Hermione of course was the only person glad of this change in his situation, and he on the other hand was the most disappointed by this turn of events. It wasn't like he was wasting his time there without a purpose however. Come May he knew he would have to face Voldemort, have Voldemort inside his mind, and even though this was a threat of itself, there was the other component to be added to the pitiful brew that was his existence in this time and space, namely the Sorcerer's stone. It was the only lead left that he had for why Erised may have brought him so far back in the past. Ever since he'd come here this question had been on the forefront of his mind of course, but up until recently he'd come up with nothing – not even one plausible guess – until he'd seen unicorn blood mentioned in one of his potions books. Then it ticked – Voldemort had been feeding on unicorn blood to prolong his existence, to strengthen himself while he waited for a chance to steal the stone. It was stupid of him not to think of it that way – it was funny how sometimes in searching for something you forget to look under your nose. The sorcerer's stone was the item that was supposed to bring immortality to the drinker – it had to be a solution of sorts for his problem – it did fit brilliantly, explaining why he was sent to 1991 in the first place, so this had to be it.<p>

So, thinking from this perspective, his path forward was pretty clear – he had to find whatever information there was on the stone and its powers and usage, and find a way to steal it. Now on theory the plan sounded just fine, maybe even perfect at first. But Harry'd been in the library almost constantly searching for information for a whole month, and frankly with what he'd got so far, he couldn't even be sure that the stone was of any use in his case. All he'd found stated that the Sorcerer's stone was supposed to prolong the drinker's life and keep one young during ingestion with some obscure time limit for its effect. Harry couldn't find any reference to healing properties or anything more directly connected with his task for that matter. And even though he didn't give up on the idea, he couldn't stop the doubt from engulfing him slowly. If he couldn't execute this part of the plan, how the hell was he supposed to devise a way to snatch the stone – finding information was after all the easier task at hand and he wasn't even sure that this was what Fate had intended by sending him here anymore.

There was the other obvious thing – the unicorn blood itself – of course. It had to be adopted as plan B though, as Harry didn't think Snape would appreciate being saved only to be damned forever.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile the potions master kept posing as the villain – if it was possible even more enthusiastically than the first time. With every encounter he seemed to become angrier and angrier with him and Harry came to doubt he knew the reason for his attitude. Up until now he'd gathered Snape was mad at him for calling attention to himself in classes (be it involuntary) and for wasting some pretty valuable ingredients. As he'd done none of those in the course of the last month however, he once again started suspecting the reason for all this lay in his very existence. One thing was clear – summarizing all the trouble he'd gotten himself into could easily make his head explode.<p>

* * *

><p>(20th of December 1991)<p>

As if he didn't have enough on his plate, the dreaded Christmas was getting near and with it - thoughts of the mirror that'd started the whole mess. He couldn't just evict thoughts of Erised from his mind when he had no idea what would happen once he faced the mirror in this timeline. It could be that it was just the ordinary 'show you what you wanna see' Erised, but it could just as well be his lift home. Frankly, Harry didn't know what he wanted it to be. He didn't seem to know anything anymore.

His last potions class of the term served to prove to him he was getting quite unstable. Harry didn't know what he was expecting, maybe Snape getting a bit softer with the festivities around the corner. Snape was Snape as ever despite his expectations anyways, but he, for the first time since coming back, was tempted to snap back in front of everybody.

Even though it was only a close call in the sense that Snape yelled and Harry glared daggers, it was enough for him to snap out of the routine and decide this had to end one way or another.

"Why do you hate me?"

It was uttered a little less than an hour later by non other than Harry Potter towards his potions professor who, it seemed hadn't, registered the boy's presence in the room before his voice broke the silence. Snape turned to face him and slowly lifted an eyebrow.

"Have I asked you to stay, Mr. Potter?" he asked silkily, his expression inscrutable now.

Harry's mouth twisted in an odd crooked smile and he crossed his arms, leaning back on the edge of the desk behind him.

"That's not an answer to my question." He replied softly.

"No, it is not," acknowledged Snape. "Leave."

"Gladly," shot Harry completely unfazed. "Right after I hear the answer."

"Is this a joke, Potter? Get out. Now." And sure enough he got another death glare to add to the cherished collection.

"It's a simple question. Is it something I did or –"

"One more word," interrupted the potions master in a dangerously low voice. "and you're going to lose fifteen –"

Harry's eyes travelled up to the desk and lingered unseeing on some papers.

"You've already taken fifty points from Gryffindor in the course of the week on my account. Do you seriously think I still care?"

Now this was a strange conversation to be seen in Hogwarts and Harry did notice he'd crossed a major line with his defiant behavior. It looked just silly for him to be acting like this in front of a professor not fearing for his safety or status. Snape however, surprised him with his words.

"…and why do you care for the answer?", he asked coldly after some consideration.

"So I can correct what I've obviously done wrong, professor. Because I don't want you to hate me," Harry's voice was softer when he said it, very thin, and almost pleading.

"Now, Po–" began Snape.

"Because I admire you." finished his thought Harry.

"You - _what_?" spat Snape after a few seconds. His eyes were slits as he added his next words through gritted teeth. "Get. Out."

Harry took one look of him, even more disbelieving than the professor seemed to be, and practically ran out of the classroom.

* * *

><p>(25th of December, 1991)<p>

On the bright side, as the term ended Harry had more time to draw out his ridiculous schemes. On the other hand however, Christmas caught him completely unprepared.

He spent the day in a foul mood, despite reliving one of the happiest days of his life – his first 'real' Christmas, dreading the spitefully significant evening that was to come.

On exiting the hall after dinner that evening all he could think of was that maybe this was the last time he would see Dumbledore alive. So he took one last a little worried glance towards the head table and met the headmaster's eyes. As brightly as he winked and smiled at him, the effect was ruined by the blank stare he found when his eyes strayed to look at Snape.

That evening he got to bed much earlier than it was usual and simply lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, and trying not to think of what awaited him in the room downstairs.

Finally he felt the familiar gut feeling and shot up, revising in his head. He was supposed to go to the library, not find anything and then bump into Snape, Filch and finally – the mirror of Erised. He was tempted to miss on the library part as it was a waste of time, but was pretty sure it wouldn't do.

* * *

><p>There he was, in the forbidden section, reading a dark arts book for no reason at all but pure boredom. He even went so far as to ask himself whether Voldemort became such an evil megalomaniac exactly because he was too bored to do anything else. The thought didn't help at all of course. In the end he dutifully dropped the lamp he was holding and ran. And sure enough not long after, he heard Filch's voice and knew well enough who he was talking to.<p>

"_You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library Restricted Section."*_

Harry sighed. This was just what he needed – another reason for Snape to despise him.

"_The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them." _

_Harry stood rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape came around the corner ahead. *_

He backed away and got himself behind the door 'luckily' set ajar. He listened for the two men until their footsteps died away and only then turned around. Sure enough there was the mirror of paradox just as he remembered. He was in no hurry to step closer and look – in fact if there was such an option he wouldn't have, but the lovely little twisting in his upper abdomen told him if he didn't do it soon himself, he'd be dragged there and look anyway.

After five minutes of fidgeting he finally stepped forward and it was exactly a second later that he screamed a violent and gut-wrenching 'NO!' and fell to the floor.

He was still panting when he came to his senses and finally remembering where he was quickly looked around. It was already too late, he wasn't alone anymore.

" Show yourself" if Harry thought that Snape would give up and go, he was a fool, "Take off the invisibility cloak…_Potter_", he hissed angrily. _Oh fuck._

With every alternative shattered, Harry stood up and let the cloak fall off never taking his eyes off the mirror.

"Well, well… What do you have to say for yourself, Potter?"

"I…", Harry felt as if his breath was sucked out of his lungs. The vision was still playing in the mirror surface and the scene was far from over. Could a heart's desire be so horrible? He couldn't want this without knowing it, he couldn't accept…

"How very eloquent.", Snape sneered. "Get up and get out."

But Harry couldn't move just yet. He couldn't make himself look at Snape just now. He felt glued to the spot, compelled to see everything it had to show him.

"A moment, please.", he croaked and felt Snape's penetrating gaze on himself. "Just – a moment, sir."

Snape waited a few seconds but the boy didn't move. He seemed to be in a kind of a trance.

"What is it Potter?", he finally snapped.

"The – the mirror, sir.", he whispered almost inaudibly.

It seemed it was just now that Snape noticed its existence in the room, so he moved closer and a second later gasped audibly. Complete silence fell in the room for what seemed like a century and really not enough time for Harry to shake off the horror off his features.

At last the potions master grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room. As he tried to match his pace to that of his professor, Harry looked up instinctively to try and decipher Snape's intentions. He could see only the hardened features of Snape's face in the glimmer of the torches they passed, but their direction became clear once reaching the grand staircase.

"A week's detention, Mr. Potter. Tomorrow, eight o'clock in my office. Is that clear?" the potions master stated when they reached the portrait of the Fat lady.

"Yes, sir.", Harry muttered and snatching his hand away from the vice grip that had tried to cripple it on the way, he hurried to enter the dorm.

* * *

><p>For what was three or maybe four hours, he lay there fully awake clenching his fists in the sheets with a 'lost and long gone' expression. When sleep finally came to him, his situation didn't turn any brighter.<p>

'_Look at me' Snape managed to utter but Harry squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to see the blood, he refused to acknowledge that the terrible sound in his years was indeed Snape's voice. 'I've lost my life for you and you won't do me even this small courtesy?'_

_Suddenly the scene shifted and Harry was once again in the headmaster's office in Hogwarts in front of the portrait of Snape, who sneered at him._

'_I should have guessed now that I no longer pose a corporeal threat, you would simply – ignore my presence.'_

'_Why are you looking at him? Look at me!' demanded a voice behind him and Harry turned to see a portrait of Ginny waving her fist. 'Is this why you left me? To look at him?'_

_And again the scene changed to Dumbledore sitting below a willow tree telling him not to pity the dead. And just as suddenly he was flung back indoors to the viaduct and below led by an angry Snape shouting at him 'Do you pity me, potter? Funny man, your father was –'_

'_No, please – stop!' Harry shouted as he found his voice at last and in this very instant Snape fell to the floor stiff as a board. 'No! –'_

"Please!", Harry shouted finding himself fully awake, sitting upright in his bed, drenched in his own sweat and aching from stiffness. He felt like his heart was about to explode.

* * *

><p>(26th of December, 1991)<p>

Upon finally reaching morning he felt like going to the mirror and begging it to let him start the year over.

One night wasn't even close to enough time for considering neither what had happened, nor what he was supposed to do next. And what was more, if what Erised showed him was true (and yes, as the nagging voice in his head supplied, it certainly was the truth as a mirror didn't have anything to gain by lying to him), he should back off immediately and revise his plan. But how could he possibly back off from Snape when he was to attend detentions with him the whole week?

He went to the library as it was the behavior expected from him by now in the hopes to clear his head and try coming up with something that could actually be useful. He did receive a valuable piece of information there when Madam Pince told him he was snoring and chased him out, though not exactly what he was hoping for. It was nice of her to do it however as it turned out it was almost time for his detention.

* * *

><p>Dressing quickly he gathered a pair of gloves and a quill (as Snape hadn't specified what his work would ensue) and set at a quick pace down to the dungeons. A bit early, he wiped his wet palms on his jeans, knocked and waited.<p>

"Enter.", Snape's sharp tone served to carry the command beyond the closed door and Harry stepped inside. "You're early, Potter.", he said briskly and continued to scribble something on the back of what looked like a student's essay. "Sit."

Harry complied, glad that Snape wasn't focusing on him for a chance, and waited dutifully until the professor finished with all the papers on his desk and stood up. "Follow me.", he said and went through the side door of the office.

Harry, whose memory of his last visit here was still fresh, followed him in, careful not to touch anything on the way. Again on the table lay various ingredients, but now there were two cauldrons, empty and shiny as new.

"I thought,", Snape began, "as you're not a complete dunderhead,", he narrowed his eyes. It was obvious how much it annoyed him to be pushed to pay a compliment to Harry of all people. "I could put you to a different use for the duration of your detention. As it is," Snape' eyes travelled through the small room, "You'll be brewing the potions I require for three hours every evening." He stopped and fixed his gaze upon Harry who nodded immediately.

"What would it be tonight, sir?", he asked nervously while looking over the ingredients. He remembered with trepidation his fifth year.

"Simple Calming Draught." Answered the potions master

"Simple?" muttered Harry more to himself than him. He'd read about this one but didn't remember ever making it in school.

Snape placed a small book in front of Harry and sat down in the chair on the other side of the table.

"Do begin sometime soon, won't you."

Harry blinked and studied the text closely.

* * *

><p>It went well considering what could have been. Of course Snape supplied nasty remarks here and there but overall Harry succeeded in making the required draught. When even Snape said it was passable, Harry felt light as a feather. He didn't dare thank his professor though, out of fear Snape would decide it was too much fun for him to be doing for a detention work. He only nodded respectfully and bid him good night.<p>

* * *

><p>It was a strange kind of a therapy – brewing – Harry decided later that evening. It wasn't like his problems had disappeared, but while focusing on the potential potion bubbling in the cauldron, everything else had seemed of far lesser value. Or perhaps it was the fumes from the Calming draught doing their work…<p>

Whatever it was, Harry slept soundly, dreaming of nothing of consequence that night and he was grateful for this much needed break.

* * *

><p>(27th of December, 1991)<p>

The next day, Harry forwent breakfast for the sake of going to the library and reading second and fifth years' potions books. As he wasn't sure what he'd be required to do next, he felt it prudent to assume Snape would want to continue with more difficult potions.

As it turned out he was partially right but marginally wrong. That is, yes, Snape wanted to continue with more difficult potions… so he made Harry brew The Draught of Living Death that night. Harry was starting to appreciate the genius that Hermione was as he struggled to brew. Meanwhile, Snape watched his every move closely, making him flinch the few times he chose to draw a sharp breath when Harry was about to drop ingredients in the cauldron. As he reached for the silver knife however, Snape resumed his seat across the table and didn't look at all until Harry declared he was done. This time the potions master didn't bother to comment – he simply pursed his lips, crossed his arms, and stared at him.

Harry didn't dare ask if the potion was good – not when he was sure it was perfect. Instead he hurried to gather his things and get out of there. What would Snape do to him next night? Make him brew a NEWT's level potion? There at last Harry expected he would fail miserably and restore the balance as it was obvious Snape wasn't at all happy with the knowledge and skill the insufferable Boy Who Lived seemed to possess.

A tiny voice inside him told Harry this wasn't okay. While he didn't need Snape's appreciation per say, with the way things were going, he was starting to wonder if the potions master wouldn't be perfectly happy to sacrifice his life in the name of ridding himself from the Potter nuisance.

* * *

><p>*Those italics stand for direct quotes from the book, ("Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone", by J.K. Rowling) incorporated in the text.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>A.N.<strong>: It's a bit shorter, so I'm considering merging it with the next one when it's done.

There's a bit of a twisting and pulling of emotions and logic in this one and it's still rough around the edges but as I don't think my real life will allow a revision any time soon, I'll let it pass.

Chapter 5 will mark the end of the first year, I guess - we'll see how that goes. I have a new idea for the format from then on - I hope it proves fruitful as it will make the story much more dynamic and to the point.

I fear I won't be this quick to update 5 - I have the beginning ready here but I simply don't feel like writing the rest of the part so I'll have to overcome this along with my schedule... but I hope the update will be some time this week.

* * *

><p>You all have been really good to me with those reviews you've given, I'm flattered by the attention this story got so far. Thank you for reading, really!<p>

_**RRW**_, you took me by surprise with this question. I've started writing this a long time ago and only recently redid the first chapter (the first year), so at first I thought 'Now here's something I forgot!' :D Thankfully I'm freakish when it comes to taking notes, so, the part with the rat - It was supposed to be in the scene on the Hogwarts express, but since it could have been summarized in "No, Harry can't move, so he gives up" I disregarded it. So yeah, the 'Fate' thing is the reason Harry hasn't done anything about him, and this will not change in future as the rules are absolute :P

**_Ty Rose_**, lol, I'm glad you approve, you certainly made me laugh with this one. Snape's 'chunks of hair' are rather valuable so I'm trying to be _very_ discreet when I write about it :))

_**MsBeeHaven**_, this reminds me of playing a game, armed with every possible cheat one could find on the Internet, so yes, I certainly share your opinion. Time Travel is complex in theory and it's no wonder time-turners in the universe work with mere hours. The only thing that I felt 'gave me permission' to consider it, was the fact that Snape's continual living, wouldn't really affect the major events in the series. Thank you for the review. I'm glad you enjoyed the story so far!


End file.
